


Last One Standing

by eerian_sadow



Series: Avalon [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, M/M, Music, Past Abuse, Pre-Canon, Pre-War, avalon au, bring your tissues, early war, original characters abound, past non-consentual relationship, past underage relationship, plug and play interface
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-06-06
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way.  but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there! some of you are already familiar with my Avalon AU and some of you are not and that's okay! This universe is my fandom opus, the thing that i am striving toward making perfect and may never finish in my lifetime. (that's okay too!)
> 
> This particular fic was not the first in the 'verse to be created but i'm posting it here first because i'm trying to finish it up before June of 2014. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i've enjoyed writing it.

He was fairly certain that he had fallen half in love with Jazz the moment the charismatic mech arrived at the boarding school.

He was the oldest student at the school, and had been there longer than any of the other students, so he had seen his share of rich bratty students come and go. Jazz was the first charity case he had seen come in since his own enrollment.

From the moment he stepped off the transport shuttle, Soundwave knew that the younger mech was not, and never would be, bothered by his circumstances.

The other students ignored Jazz at first, and Jazz ignored them in turn. Instead, he walked straight up to Soundwave and smiled at him. “I’m Jazz. What’s your designation?”

The blue mech remained silent and watched the newcomer to gauge his reaction.

The black and white mech’s smile turned down a bit. “I know why the others aren’t saying anything to me, but you were watching me, so I thought you’d be different. Guess I was wrong.”

He watched the younger mech turn and take a few steps away before speaking. “Soundwave.”

“What?” Jazz turned back to look at him.

“Designation Soundwave.”

The younger mech grinned. “Nice to meet you, Soundwave.”

Soundwave nodded. “Come. Tour.”

The two mechs turned from the landing pad and walked inside the school. Neither of them gave another thought to the two other new students that had arrived on the shuttle with Jazz; the other privileged students would take care of them, Soundwave knew.

“So, you been here long?” Jazz asked as the walked.

“Yes.” Soundwave kept walking. He was not particularly comfortable with his status and the school, and he hoped that the other mech wouldn’t ask about it.

Jazz didn’t. Instead, he brought up something even more uncomfortable. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

The blue mech hung his head. He didn’t even think he could have this conversation, let alone want to do so. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Speech impediment.”

“That must make things hard for you around here.” Jazz’s face didn’t show any trace of pity. “Rich sparklings can be really cruel about that kind of stuff.”

Soundwave nodded, grateful for the other mech’s lack of pity. He was also incredibly grateful for Jazz’s acceptance of his problem.

“So, what’s over there?” Jazz pointed to a door. “This is supposed to be a tour, right?”

“Classroom one.”

Jazz continued to ask questions as they walked, giving Soundwave the opportunity to answer in one or two words. Soundwave felt strangely warm at this consideration.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

The headmaster of the school would say that he had placed Jazz as Soundwave’s roommate because the two of them had been friendly with each other right away. Soundwave knew the real reason was that he didn’t want any of the rich sparkling to be “tainted” by such common mechs. Soundwave had always had a private room before Jazz’s arrival.

Jazz accepted sharing the small dorm room as if it were normal for him. Soundwave wondered what that said about the kind of life he had lived before the school took him in, but that was not the kind of question that was asked. If the younger mech wanted him to know, Jazz would tell him.

“So, what do we do for fun around here?” Jazz asked, looking around the barren room. “There aren’t classes right now, so how do we keep from getting bored?”

Soundwave pointed to the small shelf of data pads he kept over his recharge berth. They contained some of his favorite pieces of fiction. “Read.”

The younger mech fell silent and still. Soundwave realized that he had either touched a sore subject or an embarrassing one. He didn’t know which, and he wasn’t sure how to ask.

“I can’t read,” Jazz finally said in a small voice.

The Tower brats would find that out fairly quickly, and once they did, they would latch onto that fact and use it to humiliate the black and white mech. While his humble beginnings may not bother Jazz, the fact that he couldn’t read clearly did. Soundwave searched his processor for a way to make the younger mech feel better.

With careful fingers, he took a data pad from the shelf that was probably older than he and Jazz put together. It was the first piece of fiction his creator had given him—simple stories with small, easy to understand words.

“Sit,” Soundwave told Jazz indicating the workstation along the wall. “I will teach you.”

The blue mech knew it would be a hard, painful process. His speech impediment would make the task more difficult than it would normally be, and he would spend many nights going into recharge with an aching vocalizer.

The brilliant smile Jazz gave him was advance payment for the pain he was about to suffer.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

During their second metacycle of schooling together, Soundwave discovered that Jazz could sing.

The entire school was clustered around the black and white mech one afternoon during the break between lessons, and Jazz’s voice floated over the crowd with more sweetness and sincerity than Soundwave could ever remember hearing from a piece of music. He shouldered his way through the gathered students without much difficulty—once they realized he was coming, they parted like he was carrying a virus.

For once, he didn’t mind. He wanted to make sure that it really was his new friend who was keeping the Tower brats entertained. Jazz gave him a bright smile when he saw him, but he didn’t speak until the song was finished.

“You sing,” Soundwave stated when the song was finished.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied. “My creator does too. She always says that music is what keeps your spark happy.”

Soundwave nodded. His creator had said something similar, before he was deactivated.

Seeing that no more music would be coming anytime soon, the rich students began walking away. Jazz and Soundwave both ignored them.

“So, do you like music too?” The younger mech stood and led Soundwave away from the awning he had been singing under.

The blue mech nodded again. He was certain that Jazz wouldn’t make fun of his love of music, but he wasn’t sure if his new friend would understand how deeply he loved it. His creator had been a singer and a composer, and he had taught Soundwave those skills as he grew old enough to understand them. As a younger mech, he had taken those skills and learned to play instruments; he would never be able to be a singer.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Jazz told him with a smile.

“My creator sang,” Soundwave told him.

“How come you sound so sad when you say that?” The younger mech’s face turned serious.

“He was deactivated.” The older mech looked down so he wouldn’t see the pity he knew would be on Jazz’s face.

Soundwave was shocked when Jazz’s arm wrapped around his waist and his friend hugged him.

“I remember what it was like when one of my creators was deactivated. Symphony just sort of stopped. Requiem and I thought he would deactivate too.” The black and white mech’s sorrow was written all over his face. “Symphony doesn’t sing any more.”

Soundwave hugged his friend back, knowing they were both too young to carry this much sadness.  



	3. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to my mother for using her naming genius on my characters throughout this universe. (and in other places!) i'd be totally lost without her.

Title: Last One Standing  
Universe: G1 (Avalon AU)  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Soundwave, Jazz, Shockwave, assorted other Decepticons  
Summary: as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Once he learned to read well enough to be comfortable doing it outside Soundwave’s presence, Jazz was always in the school’s library. The black and white mech had a very specific schedule—he got up early in the cycle and would go to the library before classes began, he sat through classes, he refueled at midcycle, he finished classes, he went back to the library until curfew. Soundwave might have felt abandoned—or even like Jazz had used him—with all the time his friend spent away from him, but he understood that Jazz was trying to make up for lost time.

And they shared music in the late hours of the cycle.

After curfew, Soundwave would pull his instruments from their storage compartments and play softly. Sometimes Jazz would sing, sometimes he would play along with whatever song the blue mech was coaxing out of his instrument. There was always beautiful harmony, and it made Soundwave feel more at ease than he had since his creator had been deactivated.

“Soundwave,” Jazz said as they were putting the instruments away, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Soundwave gave him a searching look before he replied. “Yes.”

“What happened to get you here? You know that I’m here because Symphony couldn’t take care of Requiem and I any more, but I don’t know anything about your life.” The smaller mech looked down at the instrument he was still holding. “Its okay if you don’t want to answer.”

Soundwave didn’t. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened to his creator, he didn’t want to talk about his life on the streets before he was picked up by a passing security patrol in Koan, he didn’t want to talk about how they had threatened to simply deactivate him rather than try and find a way to educate and raise him.

“I am…alone,” he told Jazz. “None of my creator’s friends would care for me after Pulse was deactivated. I had to survive any way I could.”

Jazz’s optics widened. “You’re an orphan? You don’t have anyone to go back to at all?”

“No one.”

Jazz looked sad at that. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Soundwave gave him a small smile. “Not anymore.”

He felt better when his younger friend was able to smile back.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two more new students came during their third metacycle together. This was not an uncommon occurrence; the rich students came and went at their creators’ whims. These two were different than any of the others before.

Jazz knew them.

The new students were both the sparklings of one of Jazz’s creators’ friends. They were rich, but they treated Jazz like he was one of them and Soundwave’s only friend started spending a great deal of time with these mechs from his past.

Soundwave found himself being irrationally jealous. It was a stupid jealously; the other tower brats at the school had warmed up to him quickly, becoming friendly with Jazz even if they weren’t _friends_. He had shared Jazz’s time with everyone else in the school for as long as the black and white mech had been there; nothing was different this time.

Except that these rich sparklings would remind him of who his family had been before Tempi’s accident. They could—and probably would—pull them apart and he would be alone again.

“Soundwave, what’s wrong? You’ve been really down for the last few cycles.” Jazz’s question caught him by surprise.

He was mildly embarrassed to realize that he had been staring out the window blankly while his thoughts ran in circles through his processor. The blue mech shook his head; he didn’t want to burden Jazz with his uncharitable thoughts.

“You’ve been like this since Woodwind and Bluenote got here. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

Soundwave looked down when Jazz mentioned his old friends’ names. He shook his head again. He didn’t want to cause problems with Jazz. He was stunned when his friend pulled him into a hug.

“I’m not going to leave you for them. You’re still my best friend.”

Jazz’s words broke through all the confused thoughts in his processor, and Soundwave returned his friend’s embrace. The younger mech held him, humming softly, until he felt able to speak.

“I was afraid,” Soundwave confessed. “I did not wish to be alone again.”

“I won’t let you be alone,” Jazz promised. “Not if I can do anything about it.”  



	4. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

“They aren’t going to hurt you,” Jazz said as he pulled Soundwave into the practice room. “Woodwind really wants to meet you and Bluenote wants to hear you play.”

“Not my friends. They will laugh.” Soundwave did his best to hide the fact that he was terrified of Jazz’s friends.

“They won’t laugh,” the younger mech assured him. “They aren’t that kind of mech. You’ll like them.”

“Negative.” Soundwave tried to pull himself back through the door. “I want to go back to the dorm.”

“Is that him?”

Soundwave froze at the unfamiliar voice. Jazz answered. “Yeah. He’s shy, though. Guys, this is my best friend, Soundwave. Soundwave this is Bluenote and Woodwind.”

The other mechs waved as Jazz said their names. Bluenote was short and stocky—and painted bright red, which confused Soundwave a bit. Woodwind was tall and thin, as his name suggested, and silver. They both had bright blue optics and wide smiles for him.

He knew when he saw them that he would never be able to go back to the dorms. Now that they were all together, Jazz wouldn’t let him leave for several groons at least.

“Greetings,” he finally said grudgingly.

Woodwind’s smile brightened. “Jazz talks about you all the time. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Me too,” Bluenote added. Soundwave recognized his voice as the one who had spoken earlier. “Jazz says you play synthesizer?”

Well, neither of them had laughed and neither of them had made fun of him. Maybe Jazz was right. Maybe he would be able to get along with the other mech’s friends. “Affirmative.”

“Will you play with us?” The red mech held up a long slender instrument. Soundwave didn’t recognize it, but that wasn’t surprising. His musical studies hadn’t gotten far before his creator had been deactivated.

“Jazz sings,” Woodwind added. “It sounds really pretty with Bluenote’s digital flute.”

The blue mech thought the offer over for a long moment. It would be an opportunity to hear a new instrument and to learn to play with it. And he never turned down a chance to hear Jazz sing.

“Let him hear the flute first,” Jazz suggested. “Symphony and Tempi wouldn’t ever play or sing with an instrument they hadn’t heard first.”

Bluenote nodded and lifted the flute to his lip components. Soundwave was fascinated, by both the sound coming from the instrument and the fact that the other mech was using the air exchanged from his internal exhaust to make music. It was beautiful, and he discovered that he was suddenly desperate to learn this new style.

Soundwave pulled his synthesizer from subspace as Bluenote finished his song. Jazz grinned.

“I knew you’d like them,” his friend said.  



	5. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

“We know a medic who could probably fix your speech problem,” Woodwind said to him suddenly.

Soundwave had been spending a quiet study period with the other mech while Jazz and Bluenote were in a late cycle class. They didn’t often talk—Woodwind respected how difficult it was for the blue mech—but their time together was usually enjoyable. But sometimes, the silver mech would say something that took him by surprise.

“Repeat?” the older mech asked.

“Bluenote and I have regular maintenance with a medic who could probably fix your speech problem. Her skills are specialized in unusual disorders.” Woodwind set his data pad on the table and gave Soundwave a serious look. “I know how hard it is for you talk, Soundwave. Will you please think about it? It isn’t fair that you should hurt so much just to be able to speak with us.”

Soundwave nodded slightly. Woodwind was right about how much pain it caused him to speak with his friends for long periods of time, but he had always considered the pain a fair exchange for their friendship. He hadn’t realized that the situation bothered Woodwind—and if Woodwind was bothered with it, Bluenote would be as well. He didn’t want his friends to be hurting if the problem was correctable.

“I will think,” Soundwave said.

Woodwind gave him a brilliant smile. “We’ll help you any way we can.”

“Thank you.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was Jazz that pointed out the largest obstacle to Woodwind’s idea. “Seeing a medic costs credits, Wind. Soundwave’s got less of those than I do.”

Soundwave was grateful that he hadn’t gotten his hopes up about the idea, because the younger mech’s statement would have shot them down.

“We have credits,” Bluenote told them. “Stockpile always gives us a monthly stipend, but we never use it. You could have whatever you needed.”

“No.” Soundwave’s tone was firm. “You do not need to give me credits.”

“Please, Soundwave? We want to help you.” Woodwind’s tone was almost pleading.

“No charity,” the blue mech said sternly.

“Its not charity!” the brothers protested in unison.

“We want to help because you’re our friend, not because you’re poor,” Bluenote added. “That’s what friends do.”

Soundwave looked at the floor, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want them to help him out of pity or because he didn’t have any credits. He didn’t want help because he was a hard luck case. He had taken charity once, because he would have been deactivated if he hadn’t come to the school—his pride would not allow it a second time.

Jazz put an arm around his shoulders, trying to be comforting. “They just want to help you because they love you. I’d do the same, if I had any credits. We don’t like to see you suffer.”

Soundwave leaned into his best friend’s embrace. He knew that Jazz understood his situation better than Woodwind and Bluenote ever could. Pride and friendship were all they had left.

And he knew the brothers were sincere in their offer. He turned the idea over in his processor for several kliks before answering.

“It does not hurt to try.”

He hadn’t expected the enthusiastic hug he received from Woodwind.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The first time Soundwave spoke in class, everyone froze. Jazz had crowed with delight. Woodwind and Bluenote had laughed when they heard about it. Soundwave had been hesitant to speak at all, but he had been _right_ and none of the other students had been willing to say anything at all during the lecture.

When they realized that Soundwave was willing to speak in class, the teachers became more willing to teach him. Soundwave quickly rose through the ranks of students, rising from the very bottom to the level of education he should have been at in a matter of deca-cycles.

It was strange to suddenly be considered equal to the tower brats.

Jazz still had a few problems with reading, but he managed to stay even with Soundwave in their studies. Woodwind thought that they would all be able to graduate from the boarding school together. He, Jazz and Bluenote were making plans to attend the music academy and they asked the older mech to come with them. Soundwave liked the thought of staying with his friends; he agreed.  



	6. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the events in this chapter directly relate to the last chapter of "Deeper Than Family" (which is not posted to AO3 currently). they were supposed to be published together, but i hadn't finished this up yet. its a little longer than most chapters of LOS, but for the subject matter it needed to be. and just so you are warned, i will be a touch more graphic with what happened to Soundwave than i have been with what happened to Bluestreak (but not too much). that's deliberate, because this will end up being a much darker fic.

The Polyhex Music Academy was everything they had been told it would be and more. The facility was home to over two hundred of Cybertron’s finest musicians and music professors. The sprawling campus held over twenty thousand students of various ages and skill levels.

Soundwave was as welcome at the Music Academy as he had been shunned at the boarding school.

There were no class distinctions at the music academy. A mech got into the school based on his own merits, not the whims or finances of his creators. And if Soundwave had been too poor to pay for his education at the academy, there were more than enough scholarships to see to that. Enough scholarship credits, in fact, to upgrade his synthesizer to something with better tone and more range _and_ to buy a digital flute like Bluenote’s.

And there were credits left over that Jazz insisted he save. “You don’t always know where your next bit of energon will come from,” he had reminded the blue mech gently.

Soundwave was amazed that he had forgotten. He knew poverty in a way that Jazz did not, though the younger mech was no stranger to it, and he could not believe that he had forgotten that most fundamental rule of survival. In the slums he had come from, you had to save—or hide—anything you didn’t use immediately or you would probably be without in the very near future.

He had learned that the hard way after his creator had been deactivated.

Still, the academy was an amazing place and he felt comfortable. He had never been so accepted before and he reveled in the sensation. Jazz watched with a smile as Soundwave finally “found himself” in a way he had never thought possible before.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Soundwave did not always see his friends as often as he would like. They had all been roommates during their first meta-cycle of study, but his course load had been heavier than theirs and they were rarely online at the same hours. During their second meta-cycle, Woodwind and Bluenote had gotten a separate room. The brothers were both in musical theory tracks and it was difficult for them to study while he and Jazz were practicing for the orchestra and the band.

He missed their company, but he didn’t begrudge them their choices.

It was a particularly pleasant surprise when Woodwind paid him a visit while Jazz was at band practice. The other mech had looked almost embarrassed when Soundwave had opened the door to see him in the hall.

“I, um…I was hoping you would want some company,” Wind said with uncharacteristic shyness.

Soundwave wondered what he had to be shy about. He had paid him dozens of similar visits over the few meta-cycles they had known each other. “I was studying for a test, but I could use a break.”

The silver mech smiled. “I could help you study.”

“If you want.” Soundwave stepped aside so that Woodwind could enter the room.

When he stepped inside, Woodwind looked around the room like he had never seen it before. Soundwave was struck again by the idea that his friend was acting strangely. He decided not to mention it, and moved back to his desk.

Soundwave had expected Woodwind to pull Jazz’s chair over to the desk and sit next to him. Instead, the silver mech stood just behind him, leaning slightly over his shoulder. He turned to ask if anything was wrong.

And was shocked into silence by Woodwind’s lip components on his own.

Why was Woodwind kissing him? Was it mere curiosity, or was the other mech actually interested in him in that way? He tried not to let the questions intrude; he wanted to enjoy this.

He did enjoy the kiss—until Woodwind’s fingers began exploring the joints and seams in his outer plating.

He flashed back with painful clarity to his first cycle alone on the streets. He remembered the “payment” that had been taken from his tiny sparkling’s body to be allowed to stay on the same stretch of ruined pavement as a mech named Hollowspark. He remembered the pain that had accompanied much larger fingers than Woodwind’s tracing the same patterns. He remembered being thoroughly violated by someone much stronger than he was.

Soundwave tried to grab Woodwind’s hands and pull them away, but the other mech was nimble and dodged his attempts. Desperately, he pushed against the other mech’s chest plates and shoved him away.

“Woodwind, stop.”

“What’s wrong, Soundwave?” Wind took his hands and stroked the palms with his thumbs.

Soundwave shuddered; Hollowspark had done that too. He wanted to tell his friend what was wrong, but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he let out all the pain and fear he had hidden for meta-cycles out the only way he could.

He screamed.

Woodwind’s expression was stunned. He gripped Soundwave’s hands more tightly and asked repeatedly what was wrong, but that only worsened the problem. Soundwave needed space away from his friend and he knew it.

Wind was flying across the dorm before Soundwave realized he had kicked the other mech away. He slammed into Jazz’s recharge berth and fell into a still, silver pile on the floor. When he realized that he had injured his friend, Soundwave began wailing.

He didn’t stop until he heard Jazz’s voice screaming for “everyone” to get back and let him talk to his roommate.  



	7. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

He was exhausted and his fuel tanks were reading critically empty, but Soundwave couldn’t make himself move from his recharge berth. He hadn’t moved, in fact, since Jazz had put him there three cycles ago. He was ashamed of what had happened; he had hurt Woodwind and the silver mech didn’t even know why.

Hollowspark had lived up to his promise and ruined him for anyone else.

He didn’t even twitch when Jazz placed a cube of energon on the recharge berth in front of his face.

“I know you’re hurting,” the younger mech said, “But you need to take care of yourself.”

“Just leave me alone, Jazz. I’m not worth it.”

Without any warning, Jazz grabbed his chest plate and yanked him off the berth. The younger mech’s expression was furious as he stared him in the optics. “Don’t you ever say that! Don’t you ever say that you’re not worth taking care of! You mean more to me than my own brother—that’s worth something!”

Soundwave wished he could explain everything to his friend. He wished he could explain it to himself. He wished that he could just forget all the pain and fear and just be a normal academy student again.

He wished he could somehow make it up to Woodwind, who hadn’t been trying to hurt him.

“Put me down, Jazz.” He was too tired and too under fueled to fight, but he didn’t want Jazz to keep holding him by his chest plate—it hurt.

“You agree to drink the energon and I’ll put you down.”

It wasn’t a hard decision. If he let himself go offline from lack of energon, Jazz would take him to the infirmary anyway and the medic there would refuel him by force. And agreeing would take some of the worried lines out of his friend’s face. “Agreed.”

The younger mech set him down much more gently than he had picked him up. As he picked up the energon cube, Jazz slumped down onto the floor, leaning against Soundwave’s recharge berth.

“Everyone keeps asking about you, Wave. They all want to know what happened and if you’re all right. Our professors keep asking if you’re going to be coming back to class soon or if you’re going to go home for the rest of the meta-cycle. I keep telling them I don’t know, and they all look at me like I’m crazy.” Soundwave sipped at the energon while Jazz spoke, truly seeing how his friend had been affected by this for the first time. “I guess being your roommate means I can read your mind or something. Even Woodwind’s been asking about you and looking at me funny when I say I don’t know what’s going on.”

Soundwave froze at the mention of the silver mech’s name. “Is he still angry?”

Jazz looked back at him with sadness and worry etched into his features. “He wasn’t ever really angry, just really confused. He thought you were angry with him for coming on to you like that.”

Soundwave wanted to laugh at that painful irony. He hadn’t ever been angry at Woodwind—merely terrified by the memories the silver mech had accidentally dredged up. The memories and the tactile sensation associated with them had simply been too much.

“I’m not angry,” the blue mech finally said.

“Will you at least tell me what happened? I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want them to know, but can you at least tell me?” The black and white mech’s expression was pleading. “I just want to understand why you’re both hurting so much now.”

Soundwave stared down into his energon for a long moment. He didn’t think that Jazz would judge him based on what Hollowspark had done to him, but he didn’t want his friend to suffer that pain.

But was it fair to inflict the pain of not knowing on him?

“There was a mech named Hollowspark who shared the same stretch of street I did. Because he had been there longer and was older, he forced me to pay for the space I occupied. When I didn’t have credits or energon, he forced me into interface with him.” Soundwave spoke slowly, clinically, so that he could control the amount of pain in his words. Despite his best efforts, Jazz’s face still crumpled in horror and shared pain.

When he had finished speaking, his friend pulled him carefully into a gentle hug. Soundwave held on to Jazz like the black and white mech was his last hope for salvation.

“I won’t let anything like that happen to you again,” Jazz told him firmly.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz had convinced him that he had to talk to Woodwind, once Soundwave had calmed down after his story.

“You don’t have to tell him details, but he deserves to know,” Jazz said.

And he wouldn’t share the details. Everything he would tell Wind would be a much diluted version of his past. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t seem to trust the silver mech enough to do more.

Or perhaps he was simply trying to save Woodwind from more pain.

He had convinced Jazz that he would visit Woodwind and Bluenote’s dorm alone. The younger mech hadn’t wanted him to go by himself, but Soundwave wanted to face his friend alone.

The walk to the dorm the brothers shared was longer than he remembered. And full of more people than he remembered knowing, but everyone he saw was glad to see that he was doing better. One femme—a bright orange singer named Melody—threw her arms around him in a hug and told him that everyone hoped he would be back for their classes soon, because the music didn’t sound the same without him.

He was indescribably touched that so many people—so many strangers and near strangers—wanted him healed and wished him well.

It was a sharp contrast to the anger and hostility on Bluenote’s face when the red mech opened the door. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“I came to talk to Woodwind.” Soundwave was prepared for the chance that Bluenote wouldn’t care and would send him away. “I want to tell him what happened.”

“Let him in, Blue,” Woodwind said softly from inside the dorm. The silver mech sounded tired, and Soundwave felt awful for inflicting his pain on the gentle mech.

Bluenote gave him another angry glare, but he stepped aside so Soundwave could come into the room. Woodwind was sitting at the desk, leaned back in the chair and looking like he hadn’t recharged in the last three cycles either.

“Are you all right?” Wind asked.

Soundwave was amazed that the silver mech even cared how he was feeling. “No,” he replied truthfully. “Jazz is trying to help.”

“Jazz is very good at that.” Woodwind looked down at the floor. “I am sorry. I didn’t think…I should have asked before I approached you like that.”

“It might not have helped,” the blue mech replied. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you say that?! I practically forced myself on you!” Wind’s voice held an almost hysterical tone that told Soundwave his friend had spent a lot of time blaming himself.

“You stopped when I asked you to stop,” Soundwave said. “You did not force yourself on me. I had a flashback.”

“A flashback? To what?” Bluenote’s tone was disbelieving—he sounded like he wanted to blame Soundwave for the pain his brother had been in for the last three cycles.

“I was raped as a sparkling. Repeatedly.” It was an effort not to let himself look at the floor. He didn’t want to see pity on Woodwind’s face, but he didn’t want to look ashamed either.

Jazz was right in saying he had nothing to be ashamed of.

There was a long silence. Finally, Woodwind whispered, “Oh, Primus. Soundwave, I’m so sorry.”  



	8. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Woodwind’s anger with him cooled quickly, but his relationship with Soundwave grew distant. Gone were the casual touches he had grown used to. There were no more gentle touches on the hand when he needed comfort or encouragement, no more enthusiastic hugs when one or the other of them had done well in one of their classes.

It seemed like Woodwind was afraid to touch him.

Jazz, on the other hand, grew more physically affectionate. He went out of the way to pat him on the back for comfort or hold him if he was exceptionally down. To Soundwave, it felt like his best friend was trying to make up for how Wind had grown distant.

Bluenote acted like nothing had happened. His jovial, always cheerful demeanor returned like he had never been angry with Soundwave at all. Soundwave was certain that more was going on in his friend’s processor than Blue was saying, but he didn’t know how to ask.

All he could do was give them all time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

No one at the academy was surprised when the four of them started talking about forming a band. Jazz still sang, Bluenote played his digital flute, Soundwave still had his synthesizer and Woodwind had shown an aptitude for a stringed instrument they had never seen before coming to the academy. Their sound was not entirely unique, but it was far from the current trend in mainstream music and attracted a great deal of attention from faculty and students alike.

After their first meta-cycle at the academy, they were allowed to take jobs to bring in credits and they did. Some cycles they would play at four or five different clubs to earn credits for new instruments, new upgrades and the near-constant maintenance that Soundwave’s vocalizer required.

Soundwave rejoiced at the fact that he could finally pay for his own maintenance. He was also constantly amazed by how free he felt once he was no longer dependant on someone else to help him survive. For the first time in his life, no one else’s credits paid for his upkeep and—aside from the Music Academy’s code of conduct—no other mech’s policies dictated his life.

He could finally make his own choices and guide his own life. Soundwave rejoiced in the fact that that freedom allowed him to stay with mechs who actually cared about him beyond his usefulness to them.

“I think I like seeing you happy,” Jazz told him while they were heading back to the dorms from their last performance. “It’s like seeing this whole other person that was hiding inside you all along.”

“I like being happy,” Soundwave replied. “I finally feel like I’m free.”

The younger mech grinned at him. “I knew the Music Academy was the right place for you. It's what we were meant for.”

“Agreed.”

They continued in silence the rest of the way to the dorms, but Soundwave’s mood never fell. He intended to enjoy his happiness for as long as it lasted.

The head of the academy was standing outside the gates when they approached. Both mechs slowed when they saw him. Soundwave’s good mood disappeared as he searched his processor to remember if they had done anything wrong.

“Jazz,” the academy head said when they were closer. “I need to speak with you.”

Jazz gave Soundwave a worried look. “Sure.”

“I think it is a conversation we best have in private.”

The younger mech reached out and Soundwave’s hand, seeking comfort. Despite the fact that it made them both look like sparklings to do it, Soundwave held Jazz’s hand firmly. He would give his friend anything he needed.

“Just tell me.” Jazz sounded more confident than his body language conveyed. “I’ll tell Soundwave anyway.”

The academy head nodded. “As you wish. I received a communication from your creator today. There was an accident at the energon plan in Koan.”

“Requiem is all right, isn’t he?” Soundwave could hear the desperate denial in Jazz’s voice. He knew that the brothers weren’t close, but Jazz loved Requiem dearly despite the distance.

“I’m sorry, Jazz. The only survivors were mechs that were off-shift at the time. Your creator wants you to come home for his memorial service.”

“No…” Soundwave would have missed the whispered denial if he hadn’t been catching Jazz as the younger mech’s legs crumpled. “We were supposed to meet next meta-cycle and catch up. He’d just gotten promoted and I was going to the party… I wanted to tell him I was sorry for being so awful to him when Tempi was deactivated.”

Soundwave held him tightly and let his friend continue his litany of disbelief and sorrow. He clearly remembered how devastated he had been when his own creator had deactivated, and how much it had helped when the medic who had tried to save Patchwork had held him and let him vent his own disbelief and denial in her arms.

“Shall I make arrangements for transport back to Koan for him?” The academy head asked gently.

“No,” Soundwave replied. “We will handle it.”

“All right.” The blue mech was strangely touched by the fact that the academy head didn’t leave them alone on the street. He escorted them inside when Jazz had collected himself enough to finally stand up.  



	9. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

The transport mech refused to take their payment when he found out the four students who had booked him for a flight were going home for a memorial.

“My brothers died in a mining accident.” he told them. “I know exactly what you’re feeling right now, and I know that the kindness of strangers means a lot when you’re in that kind of grief. I’ll take you wherever you need to go, even if its one of the space stations, and I won’t take a credit for it.”

Jazz had broken down into small grieving noises at the transport’s words, and Soundwave desperately wished he could do more than hold the smaller mech through his sadness. Woodwind thanked the older mech politely and Bluenote helped guide Jazz inside.

Soundwave held Jazz through the entire trip, humming a soothing melody he remembered Patchwork singing to him when he was troubled. Partway through the trip, Woodwind moved to Jazz’s other side and began singing along with Soundwave’s melody.

When he met the silver mech’s optics, the look in them said that Woodwind’s singing was for Soundwave as much as it was for Jazz. He moved one hand from Jazz’s back, and reached out for Wind. The silver mech hesitated for a moment, then grasped it tightly in both of his.

Soundwave was grateful that he had finally been able to bridge the chasm between himself and Woodwind, but he was desperately sorry that it had come because of such devastating loss.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I don’t remember it being this bad the last time we were here,” Bluenote said, looking at the shack that Jazz’s creator called home.

Soundwave was also surprised by the level of poverty Symphony was living in; he had seen sturdier looking scrap shelters while he was on the street. The whole shack was held together by nothing more than rusting wire and hope. It was almost amazing that anyone could live there.

“It didn’t used to be this bad,” Jazz replied softly. “He used to be able to sell enough of his compositions for maintenance. I guess people stopped buying.”

None of his three friends missed the new note of depression in Jazz’s voice. The black and white mech must not have known how badly off his creator really was.

“Let’s go in, Jazz,” Woodwind said, trying to sound less shocked than his brother. “Symphony needs you.”

“Yeah.” Jazz’s tone was defeated.

“I’m here for you,” Soundwave told him, hugging him tightly. “I won’t leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” The younger mech returned his embrace, then pulled away and turned to the house. As he walked to the door, Jazz pulled himself up straighter and took on an air of strength that amazed Soundwave.

He was going to try to be strong for Symphony, the way Bluenote and Woodwind were being strong for him—despite the fact that they were grieving over Requiem’s deactivation as well.

Soundwave followed his friend, knowing that he would have to be strong for all of them once the grief was too much. He hoped he could manage.

Symphony pulled Jazz into a hug the moment they walked in the door. All of the strength the black and white mech had built up on the street fell away in his creator’s embrace, and Jazz became nothing more than a sparkling seeking his creator’s comfort from something he didn’t understand.

Soundwave couldn’t remember a time he had seen his best friend so vulnerable.

The stood there for several joors before Symphony finally pulled away from Jazz to look at the other three mechs standing in the entryway. He held his arms out to them, and Woodwind and Bluenote both stepped into his embrace. They stood in the older mech’s embrace for several kliks before letting go.

Soundwave was stunned when Jazz’s creator stepped over to him. He had honestly expected to be ignored unless Jazz or one of the brothers needed someone to lean on when the grief became too much.

“You must be Soundwave.” Symphony’s voice was rich and deep—and Soundwave thought that he must have been a wonderful singer before he was taken by the depression he could hear in it.

The blue mech nodded.

Symphony pulled him into a most unexpected hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Jazz. Primus himself couldn’t give him a better friend than you have been since he went away. It means a lot—to him and to me—that you’ve come to stand by his side right now.”

Soundwave returned the embrace tentatively, feeling more than a little awkward to be hugged so tightly by a complete stranger. “You’re welcome.”  



	10. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

They had planned to stay for a few cycles after the memorial, but when Symphony passed out the energon for their refueling before they had to leave for the ceremony Soundwave knew that wouldn’t be an option. The older mech had tried to hide it, but what he gave them was obviously the last of his stores. Symphony would not have any energon for himself, even if they left at the end of the cycle. It was enough to make him want to turn down the offering, but that would have insulted Jazz’s creator.

It would be best if he said nothing, and then snuck away during the others’ recharge to buy more.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Woodwind said to him softly.

Soundwave glanced to Symphony to make sure the older mech was speaking with Jazz and Bluenote before he replied, equally softly. “He does not have enough energon to survive after we leave. I was going to go out after he was in recharge to acquire more.”

“You don’t need to use your own credits for that,” Wind told him, also glancing at Jazz’s creator. “I will call my creator. I don’t know if anyone has bothered to tell Stockpile what happened to Requiem and he’ll be properly scandalized to know that one of his friends is living so poorly.”

“You sure he will help?” The brothers had never seemed to have a flattering opinion of their creator, and what they had told him did not lead Soundwave to believe that he was much of a charitable mech.

“For Symphony he would stop the movement of the planet. And Symphony will take help from Stockpile with more grace than he would from us.” Woodwind took his hand again—with no hesitation this time—and gave it a squeeze. “His pride kept Symphony from asking for help, even when it became obvious that he couldn’t help himself anymore, but it won’t keep him from accepting when Stockpile offers. Jazz won’t lose the rest of his family, I promise.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Bluenote asked, loudly enough to attract the attention of Jazz and Symphony.

Woodwind didn’t give him a chance to feel like he was hiding anything. The silver mech looked back at the other three and replied, “We had just realized that you and I hadn’t called Stockpile to tell him what had happened.”

Symphony’s gaze moved from the two younger mechs to the table. He looked ashamed, but Soundwave didn’t understand why.

“I don’t want him to have to share this burden as well,” the composer said softly. “He shouldn’t have to carry my grief again. Not after Tempi.”

Jazz stood and took the few steps across the table to Symphony. He pulled his creator into a comforting hug. Symphony held on to the younger mech like a lifeline.

“But that’s what friends do for each other,” Wind replied. “And it will comfort him to be with you as much as he will comfort you.”

“You will have to use a public comm to call,” Symphony replied in acquiescence. “I haven’t had the credits to maintain a private line.”  



	11. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Soundwave didn’t know what to expect from the memorial ceremony. He hadn’t been to one since Patchwork deactivated, and his creator hadn’t really had a memorial—only the short speech the medic gave for mechs too poor to pay for a real ceremony.

There hadn’t been much of a body to bring back home, and Symphony had requested that Requiem’s remains be scrapped rather than subjecting himself and Jazz to that kind of sight. So, rather than a well-painted but lifeless shell on a bier, there was a small holo photo of Jazz’s brother at the front of the room for mourners to pay their respects to. A priest of Primus—he hadn’t even realized there were such things until the ceremony—stood over the holo and said a prayer for Requiem’s spark and gave a small eulogy about how wonderful a mech he had been. After the priest spoke, several of the mechs who had worked with Requiem at the energon plant stepped up and said a few words.

Overall it was very boring, though Soundwave did learn a great deal about how mechs normally dealt with their grief and the death of a loved one.

The entire memorial was over in less than a groon. The majority of the mourners filed out of the small room Requiem’s employer had rented for the ceremony as silently as they had arrived and Soundwave was left standing with Jazz, Symphony, Woodwind and Bluenote. He had thought they were alone until a tall, polished, gold mech stepped up them and put an arm around Symphony’s shoulders.

“I wish you had called me,” the gold mech said, pulling Jazz’s creator close against his chest plates.

Symphony turned into the comforting embrace and let himself be overwhelmed by his grief. Woodwind and Bluenote pulled Jazz and Soundwave away from them.

“That’s Stockpile,” Woodwind said.

Soundwave nodded. He had assumed as much from the way the gold mech was acting.

“Let’s go outside,” Bluenote suggested. “I think our creator will want to be alone with Symphony.”

“Sure,” Jazz agreed. The black and white mech shot a concerned look over his shoulder as Blue lead him outside.

“Stockpile wants Symphony to move in with him,” Woodwind said when they were outside. “He was more than shocked when I had told him how bad things had gotten.”

“He should,” Jazz said softly. “He needs more support than I’ll be able to give him right now.”

“You’re not angry? I know that it’s always meant a lot to you for him to manage to stay independent.” Wind sounded surprised.

“I’d rather have a creator to come home to.”

The brothers looked like they were waiting on Jazz to elaborate on that statement, but Soundwave understood. If left to his own devices, Symphony would simply allow himself to fade away with grief—he had already seen signs of that, just in the two cycles he had spent with the older mech.

The blue mech put an arm around his friend and held him until Symphony and Stockpile finally came outside.  



	12. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

They used the two cycles after the memorial to pack Symphony’s belongings; he had agreed to the idea of moving in with Stockpile after a bit of persuasion. Jazz was still overly concerned for his creator’s well-being, but Stockpile had taken him aside after Symphony had gone into recharge when the packing was finished to speak with him about his creator.

Soundwave had no idea what they talked about, but Jazz looked less worried when he crawled into his own berth for recharge.

After everything was loaded onto the transport shuttle, Symphony looked back at the shack with a lost expression.

“I feel like I’m betraying her memory by going,” he said softly. “This place meant so much to her.”

The tone of his voice made Soundwave’s spark ache. Stockpile put an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Tempi would have wanted you to go where you needed. She was never fixated on the material things,” the gold mech said, equally softly. “I know she was proud that the two of you were able to buy the house, but—”

“It hasn’t been home for a long time.” Symphony gave his friend a tired smile and turned toward the shuttle. Stockpile followed him a moment later.

“He’s just giving up,” Woodwind said, pain evident in his voice.

“I know,” Jazz said. “Now you see why I wanted him with someone who would take care of him.”

Soundwave put an arm around the black and white mech and pulled him close.

“I don’t want to lose him too,” Jazz whispered. “I can’t lose him too.”

“You won’t,” Wind assured him, wrapping his arms around Jazz and Soundwave both.

“Stockpile loves him too much for that,” Bluenote added, coming up on the other side of the group and including himself in the embrace.

Despite the comfort of his friends, Jazz continued to tremble with fear and grief. Soundwave wondered how long it would take him to heal—or if he would ever be able to. It was a long while before they separated so they could board the transport shuttle so they could leave for Stockpile’s apartment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz was subdued after they returned to the Music Academy. Soundwave didn’t know if that was due to his own grief or to the horribly broken state Symphony had been in when they left. Even a meta-cycle later, Jazz’s creator did not seem to be moving on.

Eventually, Jazz horrified everyone by leaving the ban.

“I just can’t do it any more,” he said when Bluenote protested. “I don’t have anything left to sing about.”

“What about us?” Woodwind asked. “We’re not the same without you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jazz said.

Soundwave put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Thinking about what he had observed of Symphony’s behavior over the few cycles they had spent with Jazz’s creator, he thought he understood the problem. “Will you still write for us?”

“I…Maybe.” The black and white mech turned toward the door of the practice room. “I’ll think about it. I need to be alone now.”

“He’s breaking my spark,” Woodwind said after Jazz was gone.

Soundwave nodded in agreement. Jazz was breaking his spark too, but he didn’t know how to comfort his friend. Woodwind, at least, could be somewhat comforted by an embrace.

When the silver mech wrapped his arms around him in return, the blue mech realized how much he had needed that comfort as well.  



	13. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Graduation snuck up on them almost silently, buried under the glaringly terrifying news of a rebel faction and terrorist attacks. The attack on Requiem’s energon plant was only the beginning; the terrorists were systematically destroying energon plants, weapons factories, banks and government offices. Cybertron’s economy was sliding into decline and their intergalactic trading partners were beginning to move to other, more secure, prospects. The rebels claimed that the government wasn’t doing enough to stop the attacks and there were whispers among the faculty that a political coup was on the horizon.

Soundwave was grateful that they had saved quite a few credits from the band’s gigs over the last two school terms. Many of the clubs that had regularly played at were cutting back on the live performances or had shut down completely. His maintenance costs were rising and his medic had been forced to move her practice into a more traveled sector of the city, which took her further away from the school. He was horribly afraid that he was going to have to find a new medic or go back to speaking with a damaged vocalizer.

“You okay?” Bluenote asked him as they sat in the cafeteria waiting for Jazz and Woodwind to finish their last final exam.

Soundwave shook his head. “I’m afraid.”

“Me too.” Soundwave didn’t think he had ever heard the red mech sound so vulnerable. “I don’t…know how to survive if everything goes wrong. What happens when the band isn’t making money any more and Stockpile doesn’t have a home for us to come back to? What happens when everything is gone?”

Carefully, because he and Bluenote had never been known for casual contact, Soundwave reached out and gripped his hand. “You won’t be alone. Jazz and I will teach you to survive and you and Woodwind will be fine.”

Blue squeezed his hand tightly enough to hurt. “How can we be? When…when we know what the others are capable of.”

He knew what his friend was referring to. Mechs like Hollowspark were a threat on the streets—and would become more so as times grew harder—but they tended to prey on others who had no one to stand for them or were much weaker than themselves. “You will not be alone,” Soundwave repeated. “And we will not let anything happen to you.”

Bluenote didn’t look any less afraid, but he loosened his grip and looked at the blue mech with something close to relief in his optics. “Thank you.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz’s smile was brilliant when he saw that Symphony had managed to make it to the graduation ceremony. His creator had suffered a series of system failures over the last several deca-cycles and Stockpile’s medic had been unsure if the older mech would be able to leave his berth. Every one of Symphony’s moves was laced with pain, but his expression was as beaming as his creation’s. Stockpile hovered closely at his friend’s side, showing a level of concern that surprised all of the younger mechs.

But even Stockpile seemed happier than normal.

“I’m so proud of you,” the golden mech told his creations after the ceremony was over. “I still don’t understand why you chose this path, but I am very proud of you.”

Woodwind and Bluenote both beamed at the praise.

Soundwave felt left out of the whole situation. The only people who cared about his graduation were Jazz, Woodwind and Bluenote—and the three of them were wrapped up in their own celebrations. He wanted to join them, but he wasn’t sure how.

“Soundwave?” Symphony’s voice was more worn than the blue mech remembered.

“Yes?” He turned to Jazz’s creator curiously.

“Are you all right? You don’t seem to be as happy about your graduation as the others.”

Soundwave shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“I see.” Symphony gave him a gentle smile. “You’re feeling left out, then?”

Soundwave nodded hesitantly.

The older mech put an arm around his shoulders. “Do you really think that your friends don’t want to share your joy with you? Or that they don’t want to share their joy with you?”

The younger mech looked at the floor. “They seemed to want to spend time with their families. I cannot be a part of that.”

“But Soundwave, you are a part of Jazz’s family. And that makes you part of mine as well.” When Soundwave forced himself to look at the older mech, Symphony’s worn face was brightened by a smile. “Come join us.”

Symphony’s statement was both surprising and touching. Soundwave knew that Jazz loved him like family, but he had never expected any similar sentiment from his best friend’s creator. The fact that Symphony was even trying to reach out to him that way made Soundwave feel cared for in a way he hadn’t since Patchwork’s deactivation.

“Thank you,” he said.

Soundwave gave Symphony a smile and let the older mech lead him over to his friends. Jazz’s smile grew even brighter when he saw Soundwave. Woodwind pulled him into a warm hug.

“You are always welcome here,” Wind told him.

Soundwave let the silver mech hold him, basking in the affection his friend felt for him. A moment later, Jazz’s arms wrapped around their waists and Bluenote’s around their shoulders.

He wondered how he could have ever doubted that he would be welcomed at their celebration.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Wait, your creator did what?” Jazz’s voice was disbelieving when he looked up from the storage crate he was packing.

“He rented an apartment for all of us for the next meta-cycle. He said it was a graduation present.” Bluenote shrugged. “I think it’s just his way of making himself feel better by knowing that we’re not living in a slum somewhere.”

“Very likely,” Soundwave said with a small smile. He had been able to spend the last several cycles with Stockpile and Symphony and that was the kind of thing he was sure both older mechs would do. Still, it would be nice not to have to look for housing the moment they left the dorms. “It was a nice gesture, though.”

“It was,” Woodwind agreed from the other side of the room. “I just hope he doesn’t have the security code for the door.”

They shared a laugh at that. Stockpile was surprisingly overprotective of his creations, despite the fact that he had sent them away from home for their schooling. Jazz’s creator was almost as bad; they all knew Symphony was afraid he would lose Jazz the same way he had lost Requiem.

“It’ll be weird living off campus after so long,” Jazz said thoughtfully. “I got so used to everyone here and just being around people all the time…”

“And the library.” Soundwave added.

“And the music halls and the constant practices,” Bluenote finished. “You’re just too social, Jazz.”

“Well it’s a good thing that I am,” the black and white mech said defensively. “Because the three of you couldn’t manage the band to save your sparks without me.”

“We couldn’t do a lot of things without you,” Woodwind told him.

Soundwave nodded his agreement.  



	14. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Once they were settled into the apartment, it was easy to forget the problems that were plaguing the smaller cities. The four of them were caught up in the rush of life and it was easy to lose track of the political unrest or the terrorists plaguing the mines and factories.

Easy, until Jazz came home from meeting with a producer with news of a riot on the Military Academy campus.

“Oh, Primus, that’s just up the road.” Woodwind sank into a chair in shock. “How could that happen?”

Soundwave placed a comforting on the silver mech’s shoulder. “Do you know what caused it, Jazz?”

The black and white mech shrugged. “The rumor mill says that Sentinel Prime was meeting with the leader of the rebel faction and a protest got out of hand. But I wonder, because I saw a lot of mechs wearing a purple emblem on their armor—and it was one I haven’t seen before.”

Silence greeted that statement. Jazz made it his business to know organization emblems and logos, as well as the mechs wearing them. It was good business to always know who he was dealing with, he said. If Jazz didn’t know an emblem, the organization was either very new or something to be worried about.

“You think they’re more than just rebels now?” Bluenote asked softly.

“Yeah. The producer I was meeting was wearing one, and he was talking like their leader was next to Primus Himself.” Jazz looked as tense as Woodwind felt under Soundwave’s hand. “Says they’re calling themselves Decepticons.”

“Should we be worried, Jazz?” Soundwave didn’t want to ask the question—didn’t want to know the answer—but if these “Decepticons” were dangerous, they all needed to know.

“I don’t know,” Jazz replied. “Transistor didn’t say much more than that. Then he bailed out of the meeting early. But I think we should be ready to get out of here fast if we need to.”

Soundwave nodded his agreement. He loved their home, but it was much less important than keeping his friends safe. A moment later, Woodwind nodded as well.

“I need to talk to Stockpile.” Bluenote stood and left the room.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Soundwave wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t recharge after Jazz’s news. He had seen more than one riot during his time on the streets of Koan; he knew how badly they always turned out. He also knew that the riots did not usually stop at just one.

It was very likely that there would be a series of riots, and they would end up much closer to their apartment than the Military Academy.

He would never admit it to his friends—he had gotten a reputation for always being the strong one after Symphony’s first system crash—but he was terrified. The rebels—the Decepticons—were more than just a small, faceless nuisance now. They threatened everyone’s way of life, no matter how peacefully they were currently approaching their goals.

“Soundwave?”

He looked up at Woodwind’s voice. “Yes?”

“I can’t recharge either. Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?”

Soundwave shook his head. Woodwind looked as terrified as he felt and he wouldn’t deny the silver mech any comfort he could give. Wind gave him a relieved smile and sat down next to him on the low-slung couch.

“What happens if it all goes wrong?” the silver mech asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Soundwave admitted softly.

Woodwind nodded. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. I’m afraid.”

The blue mech reached out and pulled his friend into a comforting embrace. “We will make it through this.”

“But will we make it in once piece?” The silver mech rested his head on Soundwave’s chest compartment. “I’ve read enough histories of other cultures that I know how this ends. I’m terrified that I’ll lose all of you to a war.”

Soundwave didn’t know how to respond to that. Woodwind’s fear was his own, but he didn’t want to make his friend feel worse than he did. So he held the other mech in silence.

“Soundwave?” Woodwind asked after several groons had passed. “If something happens and we can’t stay here any more, can we stay together?”

He thought the question over for a long moment. It wouldn’t be impossible for them to stay together if they had to leave the apartment, but it could be difficult. There were some situations where it really was better to be alone. He looked down at Wind, ready to tell him that he wasn’t sure, but the silver mech was looking back up at him with such hope that the words died in his vocalizer.

“Yes,” he replied softly.

The smile Woodwind gave him was gentle, relieved, but it still lit up the room. In that moment, Soundwave thought his friend could very well be the most beautiful thing in the universe. Without really processing the action, Soundwave bent his head down and pressed his lip components to Woodwind’s.

The silver mech stayed still in his arms, allowing Soundwave to dictate how fast and how far he wanted to try taking this moment. The blue mech drew back fairly quickly, before his memories could overwhelm him the way they had at the academy.

Woodwind smiled at him again. “Thank you.”

He held his friend in silence after that. Woodwind’s peaceful smile remained on his lip components until he fell into recharge. When Soundwave was sure the silver mech was in recharge, he leaned down and placed a kiss on Wind’s forehead.

“I trust you,” he said softly.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Jazz smiled at him when he saw Soundwave and Woodwind curled up together on the couch together. Soundwave smiled back faintly.

“Did you get any recharge at all?” the black and white mech asked softly.

The blue mech shook his head. “I tried.”

“When did Wind fall offline?” Jazz walked over to the storage cabinet and pulled out two cubes of energon.

Soundwave took one of the cubes gratefully; a rest cycle lacking recharge had drained his systems. “About three groons ago. Neither of us could manage to quiet our thoughts for very long.”

The younger mech nodded. “He’s been having a lot of trouble recharging since we moved in. He says it’s nothing, but I’m getting worried; a mech our age shouldn’t be having this much trouble getting into recharge.”

Soundwave hadn’t known that Woodwind was having trouble recharging, but his lack of knowledge didn’t surprise him. Unless the band was playing, he usually went to his berth much earlier than the others. The fact that Woodwind wasn’t recharging properly was distressing, though. “Should we make him see a medic?”

Jazz looked down at his hands. “Blue and I have been trying to get him to go, but he won’t. We think he knows something is wrong and he doesn’t want to worry us.”

“Or worry Symphony,” Bluenote added, coming into the room. “He’s always worried over us like we were his creations, too.”

Soundwave nodded in understanding. Over the last several deca-cycles, Symphony had begun doing the same to him. “Even if he doesn’t want to worry anyone, Woodwind needs to see a medic.”

 _I don’t want to lose him_ went unsaid by all three mechs.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Despite their efforts, it took Jazz, soundwave and Bluenote the better part of a deca-cycle to convince Woodwind that he needed to see a medic. His agreement only came after he had managed to get so little recharge that he couldn’t play at one of their shows.

Soundwave and Bluenote had carried the silver mech to the medic that cycle.

The news the medic gave htem was not good. Woodwind was suffering from a string of broken code, probably caused by a virus he had caught while they were at the academy, and it had kept his systems from being able to properly shut down for so long that he was beginning to have small system failures. The medic could—and did—rewrite the code, but many of Wind’s components would have to be replaced.

His condition reminded all of them of Symphony and his continued ill health. Multiple system repairs and replacements had done nothing to halt the degredation of the old composer’s condition. Bluenote made no attempt to hide his fear that the same thing was going to happen to his brother.

Soundwave thought his fuel tank would purge at the thought of Woodwind deactivating.  



	15. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

The repairs cost the brothers almost every credit they had. Soundwave and Jazz did what they could to support them while Woodwind was recovering, but it was hard when there was no band to sign for gigs. Bluenote seemed ashamed to be leaving them with all the work, but he was also very focused on making sure his brother recovered completely. Soundwave understood and quietly used his own savings to provide energon for all of them. Jazz brought in credits too, though he didn’t say how he got them and no one asked.

It was safest not to ask, as the world around them was steadily descending into the Pit.

Woodwind still had trouble recharging at the end of a cycle. This had more to do with fear than bad code and system failures now, though. There had been more than one riot since his repairs, and one of those had been so bad that they had fled the apartment and spent a recharge cycle hiding in an abandoned bookfile shop. The fear was not unjustified; there were some cycles that Soundwave skipped recharge entirely. The silver mech recharged best when he felt safe, and they discovered very quickly that he felt safest when he wasn’t alone.

At first, he had shared a berth with Bluenote, but Soundwave hadn’t been surprised when Wind slipped into his room and quietly asked to share his berth. The blue mech allowed it without protest—he felt better when Woodwind was recharging soundly. Bluenote didn’t ask his brother to come back to his berth after that night, and Soundwave hoped that meant he approved of the feelings that were…changing between them.

Sometimes, Soundwave wished that he had some frame of reference—something that he could judge the depth of his own emotion for the silver mech by. He knew he trusted the younger mech, and he cared deeply for him, but he had no idea if it was love or just deep friendship.

Woodwind smiled in that gentle way of his when the blue mech expressed his thoughts during one cycle when neither of them could recharge. “Does it really matter if you know it’s love? Isn’t it enough to care for someone and know that you are cared for in return?”

He pulled the silver mech into a closer embrace, and thought about his words. He was fairly certain that Wind was much wiser than his age. “Yes, I think it is.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

If the riots and fighting in the streets—and the special security teams sent out to clean those problems up—hadn’t impressed upon them how bad things really were on Cybertron, then the cycle that the terrorists burned down the wealthier sections of Iacon did. The four of them spent fifteen long groons waiting for news about Stockpile and Symphony. None of the authorities would tell them anything and the rescue workers they found outside their destroyed neighborhood didn’t know anything to tell them.

It was the most exhausting fifteen groons any of them could remember spending.

Bluenote played his flute almost the entire time they were waiting. It was sad, and a little tragic, but it was all he could do to keep his mind off what had happened and the fact that his creator might be deactivated somewhere in the rubble. Woodwind vented his worry and grief in a more productive way, once they decided they were staying at the disaster site, by bringing the rescue crews energon and helping the emergency field medics in their stations. Jazz and Soundwave put themselves to practical use as well, bringing in their highly sensitive audios and sensor nets to listen for possible survivors and collapsing debris.

Fourteen and a half groons of searching didn’t yield any survivors—only mangled corpses and detached body parts. Even Jazz’s eternal optimism was diminished, and Soundwave was more depressed than he could remember being since he met the younger mech. Everyone was discouraged, and the rescue workers were ready to stop for the cycle and get some recharge.

One of the workers, a large red mech with a drawling accent, laid a gentle hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “Come on back now, youngling. Exhausted mechs aren’t any good to anyone. We’ll have better luck when our processors are clear.”

“I won’t just leave our creators to die in there,” Jazz replied. “I’ll keep looking, until I know what happened to them.”

“Look, youngling—“

“I have a designation! It’s Jazz.”

“All right, Jazz.” The red mech’s tone stayed calm. “I’ll put it this way. When we pull back, we’re going to take the lights with us. Even if you stay, you won’t be able to see a slagging thing out here. You could be standing on top of your creator and never know.”

Soundwave watched as Jazz’s face crumpled in sorrow. “I can’t just leave him out here…”

“I know,” the red mech replied. “We’ll be back as soon as we’ve gotten some rest.”

“Please, don’t make me,” the younger mech sounded completely defeated,

Soundwave’s attention was pulled away from his friend—and any comforting words the rescue worker might have been giving him—by the approach of another mech a moment later. The new comer was also red, with black accents and a very prominent Security Forces shield painted on his chest plates.

“Is there a problem here, Inferno?”

“Nah, no problem, Red.” Inferno wrapped an arm around Jazz’s shoulders and forcibly turned him away from the work site. “Jazz here is just having trouble coming in from the work. We’re heading in now, though.”

Red watched silently as the rescue worker led Jazz out of the debris field and toward the rest area. Soundwave watched with him, ready to attempt to stop his friend if the younger mech broke away from Inferno and tried to come back.

Once they were safely inside the rest shelter, Red turned to him. “I don’t like having civilians on site like this, but the two of you have been beneficial. I’ve never seen Inferno go back in on his own before.”

Soundwave didn’t reply and Red didn’t seem to expect a response.

“We need to be heading in as well. My people will be turning off the lights in a joor.”

Soundwave followed him back to the shelter, more than ready for the comfort of his friends. Woodwind met them at the entrance, holding an energon cube for each of them. Red took his with a gracious word of thanks, then walked away. Soundwave took his cube, then pulled Wind into an embrace.

They held each other until the lights on the worksite went out. Then Woodwind took his hand and led Soundwave into the recharge area. The pair sat together on one of the portable recharge berths—one near Jazz and Bluenote—while the blue mech drank his energon.

He had just pulled the silver mech into another embrace—still needing to comfort and be comforted—when one of the other workers dashed by the recharge area chattering excitedly.

Woodwind glanced up at him in confusion. “Did he just say that someone came in from the ruins?”

Soundwave nodded.

They both stood and walked toward the door. Neither of them wanted to say anything, too afraid to voice their hope and then—most likely—have it crushed. The odds of any survivor being either of the mechs they were praying for were astronomically low. Jazz joined them as they stepped into the makeshift corridor that led to the medical area.

“I’ll come back and wake Blue if…you know.” The black and white mech said.

Soundwave put an arm around Jazz and gave him a squeeze as they walked. “I understand.”

They stepped into the medical area amidst a flurry of activity. The medics were scrambling about, pulling supplies and thermal sheets from storage lockers and generally making more of a scene than they needed to. Considering that they hadn’t found any other survivors this cycle, Soundwave wasn’t entirely surprised by their actions.

Carefully, the three of them pushed through the crowd toward the medical berths. One was occupied by a femme that might have been beautiful before the fires had burned her paint off and melted parts of her facial components. A second was occupied by a tall mech that they knew had been gold before heat scorched the paint off his frame.

Stockpile was holding a frightfully still Symphony in his arms.

Soundwave felt his fuel pump stop briefly at the sight. Then he was filled with euphoria that, despite the odds against them, Symphony and Stockpile were still alive.

“I’ll get Bluenote,” he said, as Jazz and Woodwind flew to their creators’ sides.  



	16. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

The apartment—which had been perfectly comfortable for four mechs—was crowded with six of them sharing it, but Stockpile and Symphony didn’t have anywhere else to go. Not that any of them would have denied the older mechs a place to stay. It was just…inconvenient, especially with Symphony still healing from the injuries he had sustained during the attack. But they were all too glad that Symphony and Stockpile had survived to ever complain.

The older mechs had been surprised that Woodwind and Soundwave were sharing a room before they moved in, but neither of them had said anything. Soundwave had been surprised to realize how many of the silver mech’s belongings had already been moved into his room; they didn’t have to move more than a few datapads out of Wind’s old room to make space for the two older mechs.

They had more credits now that Stockpile and Symphony were living in the apartment as well—enough that Jazz stopped sneaking out at the beginning of the cycle to do whatever it was he was doing and for Bluenote to be able to get a full recharge cycle in without spending half that time worrying over whether they would be able to pay for their next cubes of energon. Their funds were admittedly limited—Stockpile had lost over half his business in the fires—but they had a little more than enough to get by.

Stockpile and Bluenote often went out, trying to rebuild as much of the older mech’s business as possible, and Jazz still did what he could to sign the band for gigs again now that Woodwind was recovered. Soundwave, Wind and Symphony tended to stay at home while the others were gone—Soundwave because he wasn’t sure their space or his friends would be safe if left alone, Woodwind and Symphony because they didn’t feel safe going out without the rest of the household with them.

Symphony used their time together to really get to know Soundwave. The blue mech did the same with Jazz’s creator. He was almost surprised at how much they really had in common.

Symphony was also amazingly perceptive.

“Does Woodwind know how you feel about him?” the older mech asked softly.

Soundwave looked up from his composition with surprise. “What?”

“I see it, when you look at him.” Symphony’s smile was gentle and his gaze was understanding. “Does he know?”

The younger mech squirmed a bit; he didn’t want to be discussing his feelings with Symphony when he was still trying to work them out with himself. “I…believe so.”

The composer nodded. “Good. You make him happy, you know. Even as a sparkling I never saw him as happy as he is with you.”

Soundwave paused before replying. Symphony’s words were full of implications. He wondered, suddenly, if he shouldn’t be having this conversation with Stockpile. “He makes me happy too.”

“Good.” The older mech turned back to his own composition. They worked in silence for a long while, though Soundwave constantly listened for any sounds of distress from the room he shared with Woodwind; he refused to take any further chances with the silver mech’s health. Eventually Symphony broke their silence. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

Soundwave looked up at him in surprise. “Sir?”

“Stockpile and I couldn’t always be what our creations needed us to be. We couldn’t always take care of them or provide the kind of emotional support they needed when they were younger.” Symphony made a soft, sorrowful noise. “Sending Jazz away to the boarding school was the hardest thing I ever did, but I couldn’t let him grow up in a slum when he could have been so much more. And Stockpile could never understand Bluenote and Woodwind well enough to be supportive. You were there for our creations when we couldn’t be—and with much more maturity than either of us showed in some cases. Thank you for taking care of them for us.”

The younger mech shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me. They take care of me, too.”

“I think I do.” Symphony reached across the table and gripped Soundwave’s hand. “Jazz probably would have gone to work with Requiem at the plant and Blue and Wind would have probably been killed in the riots at the academy when Stockpile forced them to go into the service because that was what he wanted for them. I would have lost all of them, if you hadn’t kept them together.”

Soundwave didn’t have a reply for Symphony’s statement. The old mech might have been right, but he didn’t want to think about that. His friends—his _family_ —were here and alive and that was all that mattered, anyway.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Woodwind crawling into the recharge berth pulled him back online. Soundwave rarely went into recharge before the silver mech, but he had been exhausted this cycle after running all over the city with Jazz and trying to find venues for them to play in. Wind had wanted to stay up with Symphony; the two of them were working on a composition together and having an exceptionally good time with it.

The smaller mech burrowed himself against larger mech’s side, shaking. Woodwind cried out softly—in _fear_ —when Soundwave wrapped his arms around him.

“We just saw a mech die,” Wind said in a broken voice. “He was running down the street and they just shot him in the back like it didn’t mean anything!”

Soundwave held the silver mech close, making soothing sounds and wishing that he could actually say something that would really be comforting. There wasn’t really anything he could say; they both knew that everything would _not_ be all right, that things weren’t likely to be all right again for a very long time.

“It could have been one of us,” Woodwind continued. “It could have been any of us—we’ve all been out after curfew trying to get credits or energon. It—”

The blue mech laid quieting fingers over Wind’s lip components. “It wasn’t one of us. We’re all still here.”

The silver mech reached up and grabbed Soundwave’s hand tightly. “It could have been you.”

“I am still here,” Soundwave repeated.

When Woodwind burrowed more tightly against his side with a wail, the blue mech wondered if his words had helped or hurt.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“We’re moving,” Stockpile announced after he and Bluenote came home from an energon buying trip.

“Why?” Woodwind asked.

“We were followed home this cycle.” The gold mech sat down heavily at the table next to Symphony. “They were poorly maintained, well armed and they saw us purchase our energon.”

“Not trade for like everyone else.” Jazz covered his optics with one hand. “Slag. Were they Decepticons?”

Bluenote shook his head. “I don’t think so. Does that make a difference?”

“It could. The Decepticons want converts, not corpses.” The black and white mech dropped his hand back down to the table. “I think Stockpile’s right. Even if the mechs who followed them are just mechs trying to get by, they’re armed and that means they’re willing to get by over the corpses of others.”

“And they know we have money.” Wind reached for Soundwave’s hand and held it tightly. “Where will we go?”

The blue mech rubbed his thumb comfortingly over the back of the other’s hand. “Praxus and Tyger Pax still seem safe.”

Stockpile and Jazz both nodded. “They do seem to have less unrest,” the older mech agreed.

“But which one is the better option?” Bluenote asked.

Stockpile’s gaze flicked to the window, then back to the younger mechs. “I think we need to decide after we get on the road.”

Soundwave gave Woodwind’s hand a squeeze. Then he stood up. “I’ll get Symphony.”  



	17. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

They managed to watch a news report when they stopped to rest and decide where they were going. The decision Stockpile had made for them was more than justified—their apartment building had been attacked, looted and then burned to the ground. Soundwave felt a pang at the thought of the lives that had been lost, but he was grateful that they were still alive and still together.

He couldn’t begin to predict how long that would last.

The hotel they stopped at was small, dirty and uncomfortable looking from the outside, but they had clean rooms and didn’t ask questions. Jazz also knew the owner, an older mech who wore the bright red emblem of the Prime’s elite squadrons.

“Quake provides his own security,” the black and white mech assured them. “He’ll die before he lets the gangs, the terrorists or the Decepticons through his door. We’re safe here for as long as we need to be.”

“How do you know that, Jazz?” Symphony asked as Stockpile helped him settle into a chair.

“I made a lot of connections before you moved in,” Jazz replied. “Just in case, you know?”

“We know,” Stockpile said darkly. “I don’t like it, but we know.”

“I’m just trying to make sure we survive,” Jazz said quickly.

“We know that, too” Symphony said, placing a calming hand on the gold mech’s shoulder. “We just worry about what you’re having to do to make sure we survive.”

“It’s nothing illegal, so just let it go,” the black and white mech replied.

Soundwave wondered, briefly, why Jazz didn’t want to discuss his actions if what he was doing wasn’t illegal, but he didn’t press. Symphony, optics far too understanding, prevented Stockpile from saying anything else too.

When Jazz retreated to his recharge berth before they had even pulled out their energon, Soundwave thought he might understand after all. What Jazz was doing might not be illegal, but it also might not be something he was entirely comfortable with.

“I’ll apologize when he comes back,” Stockpile said after the younger mech’s retreat.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Soundwave believed Jazz when the younger mech said that Quake could be trusted, but he still didn’t feel secure enough to recharge. Too much had happened too quickly for that to be a real possibility. Sometime after Woodwind dropped into recharge, he crawled carefully out of their berth and settled into a chair. He pulled a bookfile from subspace, but he didn’t start reading.

He glanced up when the door between their room and Jazz’s opened. The black and white mech put his head through the doorway to look in on them and shook his head when he spotted Soundwave. “Can’t recharge either?” he asked softly.

Soundwave shook his head.

“It’s easy to be brave in front of the others, but it’s a lot harder when I’m alone.” Jazz grabbed a second chair and pulled it over next to Soundwave’s. “You mind if I sit with you for a while?”

“No.” He set the bookfile off to the side on the tiny table that had been provided for such things; Jazz needed his comfort more than he needed to read and quiet his mind. “What’s bothering you?”

“I went down to the lounge a little while ago to catch up on the gossip. The things another mech says are more likely to tell you something useful than a news cast, and they say a lot of things that the news doesn’t. Or can’t.” The black and white mech rubbed a hand across his optics. “They’re saying that Sentinel Prime is preparing to declare war with the terrorists since they took over the mines. Word on the street is that the leader of the Decepticons—some mech named Megatron, from what I hear—is going to throw his faction’s support in with the terrorists if that happens.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The Decepticons have always been opposed to the terrorists,” Soundwave replied.

“You’re right,” Jazz agreed. “No one really seems to have an idea about what’s going on now.”

There wasn’t much else that either of them could say. Speculation wouldn’t give them truth, and if they accidentally brought Woodwind online it would only worry the silver mech more. Soundwave decided to change the subject.

“What happened in the main room earlier?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was unsettling; Jazz always told him what was going on if he asked. Always. “Jazz…”

“I can’t Wave. Not right now. I don’t want to start a fight, but I can’t talk about it right now.” The black and white mech looked stricken. Whatever he was doing was weighing heavily on his conscious.

“I’ll stop pushing,” Soundwave said. “But promise you’ll tell me when you can?”

Jazz nodded. “I promise. You know I tell you everything. Eventually.”  



	18. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Quake’s hotel proved to be the safest refuge they could find after several deca-cycles. Even peaceful Praxus finally fell victim to the riots and attacks plaguing the other cities.

The hotel owner stayed true to Jazz’s words about him. No one got in that he didn’t know personally, anyone caught fighting on his property was thrown out into the streets and no one wearing the purple shield of the Decepticons was allowed through the door--whether they were known or not. Quake provided safety for his patrons in a decidedly unsafe world.

It gave them all some peace of mind, and Woodwind was finally able to recharge at the end of the cycle. Soundwave was immensely grateful for that.

Late in the cycle, when the others were in recharge, he began joining Jazz in the hotel lounge. They watched the news with a dark fascination, needing to know the current happenings and horrified by them at the same time. One by one, they saw the Cybertronian city-states fall to the terrorists or the Decepticons and the planet fall further into chaos.

It was chilling, and Soundwave couldn’t help but wonder how long their haven would be safe.

“The Decepticons aren’t entirely wrong,” Quake sad, setting energon cubes down in front of the younger mech before joining them at their table.

“Sir?” Soundwave asked with surprise.

“Are you so surprised to hear that I think that?” the retired guard smile slightly. “It isn’t their beliefs I disagree with. Just their methods.”

Jazz gave the older mech a confused look. “Then why don’t you let them stay here?”

Quake tapped the red emblem on his chest. “Because every one I’ve ever met has seen this and tried to start a fight. Most of them are too angry at a faceless government to believe that I might actually care about what happens to them. Being retired doesn’t change their opinion of me; I’m still Autobot Guard and an obstacle in their path.”

“Their path?” Despite himself, Soundwave was curious. He’d heard the rumors of why the Decepticons had rebelled, but Quake seemed to have some idea of the truth.

“They just want the same rights and freedoms as the rest of us.” The elder mech toyed with his energon cube as he spoke. “Did you know that Seekers can’t fly unless their on the Military academy grounds or in Vos? Or that mechs from Koan aren’t allowed inside the Crystal City? Mechs from Tyger Pax are forbidden by law to have relationships with--or bond to--mechs from Praxus. The list goes on and on.”

Jazz looked at Quake with open mouthed shock. “That’s not fair! None of that even makes sense!”

“That’s the problem with class divisions, Jazz,” The older mech said sadly. “And all those unfair practices are why this whole rebellion started. I loved my Prime and he was a good mech, but his successor made a lot of bad decisions when he let those laws be passed. That‘s why I left the service--I couldn‘t serve a mech like Zeta Prime.”

Soundwave stayed silent, remembering his past. It hadn’t been long enough at all for him to forget having been a frightened sparkling in a holding cell at the security office, imprisoned for the crime of existing. He didn’t blame the security officer who had rescued him that day on the streets--she had done all she could for him--but what her superiors had done to him was no more fair than restricting the skies the Seekers could fly in.

“No,” The blue mech finally said, “They aren’t wrong.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Woodwind said when he came back into the room.

“Bad memories,” Soundwave replied. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” the silver mech said, “If it’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing,” the blue mech repeated, crossing the room to the table where the other mech was sitting. “Something Quake said tonight reminded me of things before the school.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Woodwind looked down at the table and dropped the line of inquiry. It had become a rule between them--however unspoken--that they did not talk about Soundwave’s life before the boarding school unless the blue mech brought it up himself.

“Don’t apologize.” He tipped the younger mech’s chin back up, forcing Woodwind to meet his optics. Before the silver mech could say anything else, Soundwave bent down and kissed him. “We would not be here now if I had a different past.”

“I still hate that you endured that.” Woodwind kissed him again, harder than before and with more passion. “Let me help you forget again.”

For a moment, Soundwave hesitated. They hadn’t tried to interface since that disastrous experiment in the dorms, and he was still intimidated at the thought. But he had also been sharing his berth with Woodwind for nearly two metacycles, and the younger mech had been conditioning him toward affectionate--and sometimes arousing--touches the entire time. It would be a huge step.

Woodwind looked surprised when Soundwave pulled him out of their chair. “Yes.”  



	19. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Soundwave was aware, painfully so, of all the things that could go wrong as he lay back on the berth. Woodwind followed, draping himself across the larger mech’s torso and pressing another kiss to Soundwave’s lip components. If the younger mech was nervous, it didn’t show.

That went a long way toward easing Soundwave’s fears.

“Tell me when to stop.” Woodwind dragged his fingers over the seam in Soundwave’s chest plating that hid his spark casing. The words were a ritual between them, a reminder that Wind would stop when Soundwave needed him to.

“I will.” The blue mech kissed the silver mech again, then moved his attentions to Woodwind’s audio receptors. The fine-tuned parts were especially sensitive for the sliver mech, and Soundwave knew he could bring Wind to a screaming overload by stimulating them alone. Slowly, he licked along one side of the delicate sensor.

The silver mech’s reaction did not disappoint, as his whole body shivered and his fingers dug into Soundwave’s plating. He moaned softly, clearly enjoying the sensation. The blue mech turned his attention to Woodwind’s second audio. The younger mech reacted more physically this time, burying his face in the join between Soundwave’s shoulders and neck and mouthing the cables there.

Soundwave hummed, feeling the first sparks of pleasure radiating out from the tiny gears and servomotors hidden under the cables. It was soothing and electrifying at the same time, an intimate touch that had only been shared with Woodwind.

“Tell me what you want tonight,” the silver mech said, working his way up the blue mech’s neck cables so that they could kiss again.

“Everything,” Soundwave replied, tipping his head back to extend the pleasant licks and nips along his cables.

“Everything? Are you sure?” Woodwind paused, looking up and meeting Soundwave’s gaze.

“Everything.” Soundwave tipped his head back down and kissed the silver mech. Wind made a startled sound before returning the kiss. The older mech reveled in the feel of the younger’s lip components on his, the tactile sensors activating as Woodwind’s smooth plating caressed his own and sending tingles along his faceplates. He thought he could hold and kiss Wind forever, except that tonight he was ready to try more.

“What if it’s too much?” the silver mech asked when they finally broke apart.

“Then I will tell you to stop.” Soundwave reached up and cupped the younger mech’s face in his hands. “I trust you.”

Woodwind nodded slowly. “All right. I just don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t.” The blue mech opened the cover over his interface array, leaving Woodwind to take the next step. Soundwave’s fears would not be the only ones to be overcome tonight, he hoped. “I trust you.”

The silver mech hesitated for a moment longer, then opened his own interface array.

Soundwave relaxed, tension he hadn’t even noticed bleeding out of his frame. He pulled Woodwind’s face back down to his and kissed the other mech again, soothing both of them and giving them a chance to build the mood back up.

They explored each other for joors, touching and pleasuring. They allowed the desire to build naturally, without rushing right into full interface, content to simply _be_ with each other if that was all the further they had the courage to go after all. Then Woodwind plugged himself into Soundwave almost impulsively and the universe stopped for a moment.

Soundwave’s optics went wide at the sudden influx of data and he fought panic as he remembered the dozens of one-sided interfaces forced on him by Hollowspark. His hands tightened around Woodwind’s waist as he tried to bring himself under control and the silver mech hissed with pain.

“Easy, Soundwave.” Love and affection flooded the data streaming into his processor, even as Wind squirmed to relieve the tightness of Soundwave‘s grip. “You’re safe. All you have to do is plug in. I trust you, too.”

The blue mech understood the words, knew that Woodwind was successfully fighting his own fear of Soundwave lashing out in self-preservation again, but he could not fight down the rising tide of panic. As Woodwind’s data stream flooded his processor, he was a sparkling being raped in a back alley again.

“Stop!” Soundwave’s voice broke in a crackle of static and the data stream halted so abruptly that his processor interpreted it as pain.

“I’m sorry,” Woodwind whispered, reaching for his interface cable. “I thought we were ready.”

Soundwave let the other mech unplug the cable. Then he pulled Woodwind back against his chest plates and held him close.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You okay?” Jazz asked as Soundwave stepped into the common room of their suite. “You sounded like you were having nightmares.”

The blue mech shook his head and said nothing.

“Hey,” the black and white stood and moved to his friend’s side. “What’s wrong? You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

“No.” Soundwave looked down at the floor and away from Jazz’s concerned gaze, sadness and shame written across his features. “We… I can’t. It was too much.”

“Too much what? What did you do?” For a moment, the smaller mech was confused. Then his mouth dropped open as he understood. “Oh. Oh, Soundwave. What happened?”

Soundwave shook his head again. Slowly, he walked to one of the suite’s chairs and sat. “When he plugged in, all I could see was Hollowspark.”

“That's the mech who…?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” Jazz settled onto the arm of the chair and wrapped an arm around his friend.

Soundwave turned into the embrace and pressed himself hard into Jazz’s side, trembling.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They passed the better part of the day in silence afterward. After their morning fuel, Symphony and Stockpile made their way to the lounge to spend time with mechs outside the family and to gather news on current events. Bluenote snuck out to the black market vendor he and Jazz had discovered to trade some of their remaining precious metals for the components needed for Soundwave’s vocalizer maintenance. Woodwind locked himself in their room to work on a composition.

Soundwave simply sat in the main room, ashamed and hurt by his failure. He found it increasingly hard to believe that Wind would ever want to touch him again, or even continue to share the same berth room. The younger mech had been just as traumatized by their failed attempt to interface and hadn’t even been able to meet his optics as they fueled.

He didn’t want to let the other mech go, but he didn’t see anything left to make Woodwind want to stay.

Joors later, after Bluenote had crept back into their suite and into his room and the sounds from the lounge below had grown boisterous enough to be heard through the floor, Woodwind finally came out of their room.

Soundwave looked up at him sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The silver mech crossed the room to Soundwave’s chair and took the older mech’s hands in his. “I’m the one who went too far. I wanted to help make you feel better and instead I made everything worse.”

The blue mech stared at their joined hands for a long moment before speaking. “I can’t give you what you want. All I do is hurt you when we try.”

“Wave, if this was just about interfacing, I wouldn’t still be with you.” Woodwind squeezed his hands tightly, then let go of them. He wrapped his arms around the older mech’s neck and settled himself into Soundwave’s lap instead, cuddling as close to the blue plating as possible. “If all I wanted was physical pleasure, then I could find several mechs downstairs for that. But none of them are you, and you are who I want.”

“But why?” Unwilling to let go of the comforting contact, Soundwave wrapped his arms around Wind and held him tightly. “I’m… broken. Glitched.”

“Because I love you.”

For a moment, the blue mech thought his spark would implode at the words. He didn’t even feel worthy of someone’s love, let alone someone as wonderful as Woodwind. He wanted to deny that the other mech could feel that way, but he knew that Wind had spent meta-cycles showing him before he had said anything.

“Thank you,” Soundwave whispered.

“I wrote you something,” Woodwind replied. “In case words weren’t enough. Can I play it for you, later?”

“Play it now?”

“No.” Wind pressed a kiss against one of Soundwave’s cheek plates and shifted to rest more comfortably against the larger mech’s blockier frame. “I want to stay like this for a while.”

Soundwave nodded and squeezed the slender mech more tightly. He knew there were still things they needed to discuss, but they could wait. Woodwind still wanted him, and he would _make_ that be enough for the moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Things slowly returned to normal, after. Woodwind gave him the space he needed to recover his equilibrium, as well as continued support and affection. It was all that Soundwave felt he could ask for and he did his best to do the same for the other mech.

Woodwind composed more often, clearly purging and expressing his emotions in the music. Soundwave listened to the pieces, feeling everything from joy to sorrow to hopelessness with the silver mech. The music helped them re-bond in a way that they had all been missing since the Academy. Sometimes even Jazz and Bluenote would join in, though Jazz never sang and Blue never offered any of his own compositions.

Soundwave wondered if Bluenote even still had the spark to write music or lyrics anymore.

The night Symphony joined them, singing lyrics that Soundwave had carefully added to one of Wind’s happier pieces, it felt as if their family was finally whole again. Stockpile had even listened from the door for a while with a small, fond smile gracing his features.

If not for the news feeds tracking the way their world was burning down around them, things would almost be perfect.  



	20. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as one mech travels the road of life, he is touched and changed by many others along the way. but in the end, he finishes as alone as he began.

Quake woke them two metacycles later as Cybertron drifted out of the gravitational pull of a small yellow star to give them a bit of good news, for the first time in longer than any of them could remember. He smiled at them as he sat six cubes of sweet energon on their table and gestured for them to sit down.

“If you’re brave enough to go to Kalis and for a couple of you to work the refinery,” the Guardsmech said as they sat down, “Then I have a friend who has some real apartments for you to live in.”

“The refinery? Isn’t that dangerous?” Stockpile immediately reached out to take Symphony’s hand. None of them could escape the memory of what had happened to Requiem.

“Less dangerous than it was, at least at this plant. My friend, a mech named Flashfire, hired a troop of guards when he took over the plant. They’re trained, too.” Quake took a drink from his own energon cube. “Most of ‘em are mechs and femmes that Fire and I served in the Guard with. Best of the best, they are. You lot would be safer in his apartments than you are be here.”

“Flashfire?” Jazz said. “He’s the one who was downstairs recruiting workers last cycle, right?”

“One and the same. He got lots of strong backs that day, but not many suited for the non-labor positions.”

“We would not be required to work the refinery proper?” Symphony asked softly, not quite looking up from the table.

“Nope. He wants bots who can run errands and messages or handle clerical tasks.” The tavern owner gave them an encompassing look. “Your little family unit here is perfect, honestly. Even if you couldn’t run, you’re capable of watching monitors or processing data.”

“Look, Jazz may not of told you,” Bluenote broke in angrily, “But his brother _died_ in a refinery. We’re not exactly inclined to believe they’re safe anymore.”

“I know about Requiem,” Quake said softly. “I thought long and hard before offering you this chance. But I thought that you would also like a chance to go back to a real life, instead of hiding in here and doing whatever it is that you and Jazz do to get parts and fuel.”

“We don’t do anything illegal!” Blue’s plating flared out in anger.

“Just because it’s legal, doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Jazz said softly. “We gotta face reality, Blue. What we’re doing isn’t safe and will get one of hurt eventually. And you gotta admit that a real apartment, with real showers and maybe our own vid screen sounds nicer than living in an inn for another metacycle.”

“If Jazz is willing,” Woodwind added softly, “Then I am too. We would have access to better medics at the refinery, even if nothing else was better.”

Soundwave rubbed his throat unconsciously. Even after Bluenote’s last trip for parts and the assistance of the cheerful nurse who lived across the hall, his voice was getting scratchy again. “Agreed.”

“If the younglings agree,” Symphony said, curling into Stockpile’s comforting embrace, “Then I believe we should try. There will be memories wherever we go, after all.”

“Then should I tell him you accept? He’ll send a transport for you and your things if you do.” The Guardsmech looked at each mech carefully. “And it’s not permanent if you don’t want it to be. You’ll all always be welcome here.”

“Yes,” Stockpile said after Symphony whispered a few words into his audio receptor. “Tell him we accept.”

Bluenote huffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t argue.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Their new apartments were Spartan, but Soundwave had expected that. Fully furnished apartments were a luxury of the past now, something to be spoken of in wistful tones while remembering a different time. Right now, he was very grateful that the new apartments had functional recharge berths and not just rest slats. Their systems would all run better thanks the devices.

Bluenote seemed the most disappointed, though Soundwave had no idea what the red mech had expected. The company had been recruiting at bars and hostels; they clearly didn’t have the resources for anything fancy.

“This place is _solid_ ,” Jazz said with admiration. “Nothing’s getting through these walls without some serious effort.”

Both Stockpile and Symphony looked relieved at the proclamation. Woodwind went to the small window on the far side of the sitting room to look outside and hummed thoughtfully.

“The view isn’t anything special, but I _can_ see the back gate clearly from here. If things get bad, we’ve got an escape route.” It was an uncomfortable testament to their life on the run that the most peaceful of them was looking for ways out before they had even moved in.

“Good.” Stockpile nodded. “We don’t want to be trapped inside the compound if there are riots or an attack.”

Soundwave nodded, as he moved to the window to look at the gate Wind had found. He knew they were all remembering the riot that had resulted in Stockpile and Symphony losing their home. The gate would be easily accessible, even if they had to climb out the window and down the side of the building to get to it.

It was enough additional security to allow them all to recharge during the night cycle.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The refinery had positions for all of them, if they were willing, and only Symphony turned down a job. He was even weaker after yet another move and his processor didn’t move as rapidly as it had before. The refinery medic, a mech called Fixit, shook his head sadly and told them there was nothing to be done for systems that were simply wearing out.

The knowledge that they would be able to do nothing to extend Symphony’s life struck them all like a punch in the face and Bluenote retreated to his room in grief-stricken silence for several cycles. Soundwave felt like doing the same, but he knew that it would do nothing to help the situation. Instead, he followed Jazz and Woodwind’s examples and simply spent as much time with the composer as possible, making sure he felt all the love and care they had for him.

When Symphony went to recharge for the night cycle, the younger mechs huddled together and shared their grief.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRING YOUR TISSUES. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.

“You could have the array removed and replaced, you know,” Fixit said as he performed the maintenance that Soundwave’s vocalizer had begun to require at least once every metacycle. “Then you wouldn’t have to have this done all the time.”

 

“Part are expensive,” the blue mech replied. He winced as the medic tightened the screws that held the vocalizer in place. 

 

“We can write it off as a work requirement,” Fixit said. “You’re a better messenger if you can speak properly, after all. There’s no reason your systems wouldn’t integrate a new part; you’re young and healthy.”

 

“My old vocalizer _was_ replaced,” Soundwave told him. “My creator tried twice. It is… a construction defect.”

 

He hated to speak badly of Patchwork in any way, but it was the truth that the old mech had done something wrong when he constructed the body for his only sparkling.

 

“Oh. That’s…” Fixit looked down at his hands in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I have adapted.” The blue mech shrugged one shoulder. “I appreciate your concern.”

 

The medic nodded. “I’ll tell you, if I hear of something that might help?”

 

“Thank you.” Soundwave slid off the medical berth. “Woodwind and Jazz will bring Symphony in for his tune-up later today. Do not tell them my vocalizer is worse; they will worry unnecessarily.”

 

“Of course not. That would be terribly unethical.” Fixit frowned. “And even if it wasn’t, that is additional stress that Symphony does not need.”

 

“Thank you.” He crossed the room with slow steps, suddenly self-conscious of his speech impediment in a way he hadn’t been in vorns.

 

“Soundwave, wait.” The medic stepped to a cabinet and pulled out a container. He met the younger mech at the door and handed the container to him. “That’s a light weight lubricant, the kind we use during surgery or on the plating of very young mechs. I want you to try mixing it with your energon to see if that will extend the life of the repairs. Even if it doesn’t help, it won’t hurt.”

 

“Thank you.” Soundwave nodded as he took the container. “I will report the results.”

 

“Thanks. Now, get going before you’re late to your shift. Flashfire likes you, but not enough to let it go if you’re late.”

 

The blue mech nodded again and tucked the container into his subspace. Then he stepped out the door and dashed toward the main office. There were whispers of a promotion in the ranks occurring today, and he didn’t want to miss the results if the rumors were true.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Department head, huh?” Jazz gave his best friend a huge smile. “I bet you never thought you’d be managing a whole messenger corps.”

 

“Never,” Soundwave agreed. “I still don’t know why Flashfire chose me.”

 

“You’re fast, efficient, smart.” Woodwind set a plate of energon candies down in front of him and then pressed a kiss to Soundwave’s cheek plate. “You know all the best routes and you’re amazing at sorting out problems before they get too large. What’s not to promote?”

 

The blue mech ducked his head in embarrassment. “I am inexperienced.”

 

“Every manager has to start somewhere,” Stockpile said, moving to sit at the table. “Once everything is straightened out, this will be valuable real world experience. Assuming you don’t go back into music, that is.”

 

Jazz and Bluenote both nodded their agreement. The red mech grinned at him. “You may even _like_ it.”

 

“I just hope I can do as well as Guideline. She was wonderful.”

 

“You will be too.” Woodwind kissed him again.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Guideline trained him quickly and then left Soundwave to his new duties as she moved into another department. Many of the other messengers were bitter that he had been promoted over them at first, but as he streamlined operations and shared delivery routes among all the runners they warmed up to him and even developed a bit of gratitude as their workloads were lightened. Flashfire was so impressed with his performance so quickly that he raised Soundwave’s energon allotment in reward, something that benefited the entire family.

 

But as Soundwave was gaining renown in the company, Symphony was deteriorating more rapidly.

 

He spent his days trying not to dwell on it too much. They would all be left bereft when Symphony and his gentle wisdom passed. They would all flounder without his steady assurance that things would turn out well and his support and happiness when one of them was successful in their current pursuits. Each member of their small family would be struck a great blow, and Soundwave wasn’t sure they could ever recover from it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I know it’s coming,” Symphony said softly as Soundwave sat with him at the table in the late hours. He had just come off shift, and found the old mech in his favorite chair with his composition datapad and stylus in hand. Worried, the blue mech had asked if anything was wrong and if Fixit needed to be called. “I know there is nothing left we can do about it. I was blessed with these extra days with my family after Tempi deactivated and I cherished them. I’ve cherished having such a large family and having so much love around me.”

 

Soundwave did his best to keep his sadness in check and not let Symphony know how much it bothered him to hear the elder mech speak so candidly about his death. “I have been grateful, too.”

 

“When I’m gone, remember that we were happy. Remember the good times and the hard times, but most of all remember that we were family and that we were happy.”

 

The younger mech could only nod in response, too sorrowful to find the words to agree to Symphony’s request.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Symphony composed during the day and after their shifts the younger mechs played the songs to help relax everyone. The songs were light pieces, conveying hope and happiness and helping dispel the depression that they were all sinking into. They buried their grief in the music and did their best to live up to the old mech’s wish that they cherish every day they still had.

 

As Symphony grew more frail, and Stockpile began looking more haggard with strain and grief, Soundwave found it harder and harder to manage.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

And even though they knew it was coming, the actual event was still a painful shock. Early one shift, as he coordinated messages between the Kalis refinery and the distribution point in Iacon, one of the runners brought him the news that it was finally over. Soundwave’s spark went numb with grief as he processed the words: Symphony had died peacefully and Fixit was requesting his presence in the medical bay.

 

Mechanically, he called Flashfire to request a replacement at his post and he did his best not to let his grief at losing another parent affect his work. Jazz would need him to be strong when he arrived in the medbay.

 

He fell to pieces when Guideline stepped into his office and wrapped him in a tight embrace.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember those tissues from last chapter? KEEP THEM HANDY.

Woodwind and Bluenote had been comforting Jazz when he stepped into the medbay, but the silver mech left their friend’s side to curl up against Soundwave as soon as he was close.

 

Soundwave held Woodwind close, giving the other mech as much support as he could. It hurt, almost physically, to see the pain on Wind’s face and in the postures of the others. Jazz gave little away in his facial expression, but Soundwave knew him well enough to see the sorrow and defeat in the set of his best friend’s shoulders and the heavy way he leaned on Blue. Bluenote’s face, in contrast, was pulled down sharply with grief.

 

Soundwave didn’t see Stockpile in the room and wondered where the older mech was and why he wasn’t here with them while Fixit confirmed Symphony’s deactivation.

 

“I found him,” Woodwind said softly. “When I came back from the message run to building two. I had some free time, so I stopped to see him before I had to go back out. He was at the table, composing. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong at first. It must have just happened.”

 

Soundwave squeezed Wind more tightly. He remembered, all too well, the horror of finding Patchwork’s deactivated frame in their small sitting room.

 

“I watched him turn grey.” The silver mech’s voice cracked with stress and grief. “I _watched it_ and I couldn’t do _anything_.”

 

“It was just time,” Soundwave replied, trying to be soothing even though he ached with Wind. “There was nothing you could do.”

 

“I know.” Woodwind buried his face between Soundwave’s neck and shoulder. “That’s the worst part. I’ve never felt so helpless before.”

 

The blue mech remembered kneeling at his creator’s side, frantically shaking a grey arm and begging for the old mech to get back up. “I know.”

 

After several long, painful kliks, Jazz broke away from Bluenote for long enough to move to Soundwave and Woodwind’s sides. The black and white mech curled into their sides, and both mechs reached out to put an arm around him and hold him close. Blue joined them a moment later, wrapping himself protectively around Jazz and Wind.

 

Stockpile found them still standing in each other’s embrace when he stepped out Fixit’s office after finishing the official documents for Symphony’s deactivation. He broke down with them, when Soundwave shifted to the side to allow him to join their grieving circle.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Soundwave frowned when Stockpile brought out the paints. The bright white and glossy black seemed almost like an insult to what Symphony had endured in life, even if they would be tempered by a soft silver and a pale grey.

 

Symphony shook his head when the blue mech vocalized his thoughts. “No. He should be the way Jazz and I remember him best. The paint will fade in time, with no self-repair to sustain it, but we should inter him with all the life and vibrancy we remember in him.”

 

The younger mech thought back on how unreal it still seemed for Patchwork’s grey plating to be the last sight he had of his creator. Even now, over a vorn after Patchwork had deactivated, he sometimes still expected the old mech to be in the sitting room, apologizing for causing him so much worry. 

 

Perhaps there was wisdom in painting the dead that he hadn’t realized before.

 

“We deserve a good last memory,” Soundwave agreed. “How is it done properly?”

 

“There’s no special ceremony,” the older mech told him. “At least not where we came from. Everyone in the family gathers and paints him in his colors before the memorial. I always thought of it as saying goodbye, rather than the memorial. This is for us, and the ceremony is for the other friends he had left.”

 

The younger mech nodded. That seemed much more personal than the huge ceremony with the priest that Requiem had been given. It also seemed to fit their current life better. They had lived as a small family unit and this would let them grieve and say goodbye as a family.

 

“We should play music while we work. He would have enjoyed that,” Soundwave said, as he moved to take some of the painting supplies from Stockpile.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Soundwave had insisted on cleaning Symphony before they painted, removing any grime in his joints or under his plating. He smoothed the edges of plates that were rough with age or poor maintenance and polished out gouges and scratches in the metal. He repaired dents and unfolded bent points.

 

When he finished, before they even began applying paint, Symphony looked like a new-frame that was simply waiting for a spark.

 

“He’s beautiful,” Jazz said softly. “Thank you.”

 

The words were tinged with grief, but Soundwave also recognized true gratitude. He wondered if Jazz ever realized just how much Symphony had come to mean to him and that his actions were as much for the blue mech as any other member of the family.

 

“I wish he could see how much care you put into this,” Stockpile added, laying his hand over Symphony’s chest plates.

 

Soundwave hoped that Symphony had been able to see it in life. “He deserved the best I could give him.”

 

“Yes,” Jazz agreed. Then the black and white mech picked up the first of the paint canisters and opened it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Symphony gleamed on the bier set at the head of the room. 

 

Soundwave was glad that they didn’t have to endure the cold grey of death through the ceremony, but it didn’t lesson the feeling of utter loss they were still reeling from. Woodwind held his hand tightly, both seeking and giving comfort, and Stockpile held Bluenote and Jazz both tightly--none of them truly focused on the ceremony or the words being spoken by the small red priestess standing behind Symphony.

 

The crowd behind them, far larger than Soundwave had thought it would be, seemed to be listening raptly. There were none of the subtle disruptions that he remembered from Requiem’s memorial, or even shuffling as someone tried to get into a better position to see. There was nothing but respectful silence to accompany the priestess’ words.

 

Soundwave wished there was music. That would have more perfectly encompassed everything Symphony was.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU STILL HAVE THOSE TISSUES

“It’s still all wrong.”

 

Soundwave looked at Bluenote sadly when the red mech made his proclamation. Blue was right; everything was still wrong and probably wouldn’t be right again for a very long time.

 

“I know.”

 

“What do we do to fix it? I’m afraid that Jazz is going to go next, if we can’t bring his spirits back up.” The other mech left his own low spirits unmentioned, but they both knew that Bluenote was as deeply depressed as Jazz.

 

“I don’t know,” Soundwave replied, frowning. “I wish I did.”

 

“Yeah.” Bluenote sat down at the table and wrapped his hands around his elbows in a gesture that made him look incredibly vulnerable. “Will you play something for me? I need to hear some music for a change.”

 

The blue mech nodded. He needed to hear some music too, and it seemed likely that it would help the others as well.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

After Symphony deactivated Woodwind had become even more physically affectionate, almost as if he had to constantly reassure himself of Soundwave’s presence. He even started creeping up onto Soundwave’s chest during recharge, head resting over the larger mech’s spark. Soundwave understood how much Wind needed this comfort and did his best to provide it.

 

“I just miss him so much,” the silver mech whispered. “He was always there, always part of our lives. He loved us both so much and we loved him and I don’t know how to keep going without him.”

 

“We will manage,” Soundwave rested a hand on the smaller mech’s head and rubbed his thumb gently along Wind’s cheek plate.

 

“But how? Jazz and I can barely leave the berth in the morning and we’re both doing poorly at work. I even heard Flashfire talking about transferring me out of the messenger corps last cycle. I know I’m doing badly, but I can’t make myself care enough to do more.”

 

The blue mech held his friend more tightly. “Grief and anger pass. We will get through this, because we are together.”

 

“But I miss him so much that it hurts, and it won’t stop hurting. I just want it to stop hurting, even if it’s just for a little while.”

 

“It will,” Soundwave promised. 

 

“When?”

 

“Soon,” the blue mech lied. Then he began humming, hoping to soothe Woodwind into recharge.

 

Woodwind stopped questioning, and clung more tightly to the larger mech instead.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Fueling times became more strained without Symphony’s calm guidance to keep them together. Woodwind and Jazz were deeply depressed, Bluenote was angry and Stockpile was rarely home enough for any of them to know how he was doing. Soundwave wasn’t sure he was doing any better, but he was functional and capable of working and he did what he could to try and bring them back up.

 

He wasn’t sure it would ever work, but he kept trying. He couldn’t bear to lose more of his family.

 

It was when he began clearing away Symphony’s belongings, something none of them had the spark to do for almost two deca-cycles, that he found something that could help.

 

In a neat stack on the composer’s work table, were five datapads, all of them blinking to indicate they had important messages to be conveyed. The first lit up when he touched the screen, addressing the pad to Stockpile. Quickly flipping through the stack he found pads for Jazz, Woodwind and Bluenote. And himself.

 

Symphony’s elegant script filled the page, tightly compacted as if he old mech had needed to fit as much as possible into a single screen of text. 

 

_Soundwave,_

_I hope that, before you receive this, I will have found the courage to tell you in person how much I love you and how proud of you I am. You were the creation I never had, the big brother Jazz always needed but didn’t get until it was almost too late and a balm to my weary spark. You soothe this whole family with your quiet, steady ways and your calm strength. I know that you came through unimaginable horrors to gain that strength, but it has gone a far distance for helping my own creations._

_You are a strong, wonderful young mech with a bright future--assuming the current world leaves any of us a future. You will do anything you set yourself to achieve, because you have the strength and courage for it. You will change the world, I have little doubt._

_I am happy and honored to have been able to call you family these meta-cycles since we met. I hope and pray that I brought you some of that same happiness during these hard times._

_The others will lean on you heavily, but don’t let their burdens keep you from sharing your own with them. You need them as much as they need you. Bluenote, especially, will need to know that he’s still worth something right now and helping you cope will give him a purpose._

_Whatever you do, don’t lose your music. That will sustain you through all the hard times, even if the world is burning around you. There will be times, in fact, that it is the only thing that keeps you going. Your music can also be the balm others need for their own weary sparks, as it helped soothe me over these last few cycles. This will be both a blessing and a curse, but don’t hide from it the way I did when Requiem left for the plant._

_My fondest wish for you is that you build your own family, and that your creations love you as brightly and thoroughly as mine. Don’t be afraid to embrace the creations of another if they need you and don’t be afraid to shower all your love on the people who matter most._

_Shine brightly, my creation. I love you._

_Symphony_

 

Soundwave’s hands trembled slightly with emotion when he finished reading, but for the first time in cycles the emotion wasn’t grief or despair.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Bluenote was sitting at their table playing his digital flute when Soundwave and Woodwind came out of their room for their morning fuel. Neither of them could remember the last time the red mech had played his flute--it had to be around the time Requiem deactivated--but Woodwind smiled when he heard it.

 

They retrieved their fuel from the storage cabinet and sat down to listen. Woodwind was still wearing that small smile and Soundwave found himself echoing it, despite the fact that Blue’s song was slow and melancholy. The red mech seemed to be enjoying it as well, based on the less slumped posture in his back and shoulders.

 

“That was lovely,” Wind said when the piece was finished. “I’ve missed hearing you play.”

 

“I’ve missed playing,” Bluenote said. He took a drink of his energon, then returned his fingers to the flute. “I didn’t realize how much until I read Symphony’s letter.”

 

“I’m glad Soundwave found those.” Woodwind reached out and gave Soundwave’s hand. “We all needed that.”

 

“We did,” Blue agreed. “I just wish he’d been able to say it all in person.”

 

“We all wish that,” Jazz said, joining them at the table. “Just like we all wish he was still here. But Symphony said we had to keep going and that we would be okay as long as we’re together. And he’s right. I’ve been… stupid about it, and I’m sorry.”

 

“We’ve all be a little stupid about it,” Woodwind assured the black and white mech. “But now we move on together, like Symphony wanted.”

 

“And we make music,” Bluenote added. “Because that’s really the best way to remember him.”

 

“Just what he would have wanted, too,” Jazz told them.

 

“Don’t lose the music,” Soundwave said softly, knowing that it was as true for all of them as it had been for him.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Flashfire wants me to train for the security team.”

 

They all looked at Stockpile in shock as the older mech dropped into his favorite chair. Woodwind set his stringbox aside and moved to his creator’s side worriedly. Bluenote and Soundwave set aside their instruments as well, and Jazz laid his stylus on the table with an audible thunk.

 

“What? Why does he want you on the security team?”

 

Stockpile reached an arm out to his creation tiredly, and folded Wind into an embrace. “The terrorists have been absorbed by the Decepticons. Fire’s afraid they’ll start moving on the refineries again, now that they aren’t squabbling over territory.”

 

Jazz frowned deeply. “When did that happen?”

 

“Last cycle, apparently.”

 

“Why didn’t our contacts tell us?” Bluenote gave jazz a dark look. “That’s the sort of thing we should have known already, so we could be prepared.”

 

“I know that, Blue.” Jazz picked his stylus back up and chewed the end absently, oblivious to the looks the rest of the family was giving them. “Maybe Quake doesn’t know yet. It’s possible that it was being kept under wraps until the army was back from Nyon.”

 

“Jazz.” Stockpile sat up and pinned the black and white mech with a stern look. “I think you better explain what the two of you are talking about. Now.”

 

Soundwave nodded in agreement. Bluenote looked down at the table, either angry or embarrassed. Jazz shrugged one shoulder, resigned to their secret being out.

 

“I’ve been running messages for the Elite Guard since a bit before your old apartments burned down.” The black and white gave them a half-smile. “It put energon on the table, and then it helped keep us a step ahead of whatever badness was coming. Quake was my first contact, and best friend in the guard. Blue joined up right after we moved in above the tavern.”

 

“Were you ever going to tell us?” The gold mech looked angry.

 

“What would you have done?” Bluenote replied. “You would have told us to stop, which we couldn’t do without either starving our whole family or endangering a lot of lives in the army. It was better if you didn’t know, because then we didn’t have to choose to fuel our family or starve them.”

 

“It was good pay,” Jazz added. “Enough energon for all of us every day, for every trip. We bartered off some of it, for parts and maintenance and that upgrade to Symphony’s composition tablet, but most of it came home and kept us alive.”

 

Stockpile’s face remained dark, bordering on truly angry, but Woodwind looked thoughtful and Soundwave understood completely. Had he been given the same opportunity as Jazz and Bluenote, he would have also taken the chance to help his family survive.

 

“And if you had been deactivated?” Stockpile kept his anger in check, but only barely.

 

“Quake would have made sure you knew what had happened and that we were brought back.” Jazz’s tone grew more serious. “What we do is less dangerous than what all those soldiers out there do, anyway. We run between posts in government held territory, never anyplace where there are officials and never near any of the military bases. And you can’t say you would have done less, not if Symphony’s life was hanging in the balance. And it was, in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

“That isn’t fair,” Stockpile replied. “You know I would have done _anything_ for him and I was doing the best I could.”

 

“Stop, both of you.” Soundwave stood up, drawing their attention and making both Jazz and Symphony look at him. “You both did what you could to keep us all safe and alive. Fighting over right or wrong is pointless, when neither of you was wrong. Symphony lived as long as he did because of what _all_ of us did, and that should be enough.”

 

“It _is_ enough,” Woodwind broke in from his position at Stockpile’s side. “We’re still here and functioning and we had Symphony for metacycles longer than we would have otherwise. That’s all that matters.”

 

“And if they’re deactivated while they’re out? Will it still be enough then?” The elder mech’s voice was worn down, almost defeated.

 

“Yes,” Woodwind replied. “Even then. Because they’re doing everything they can to take care of us.”

 

“I know you’re afraid to lose us,” Bluenote said, “But we’ll be okay. This is what we chose and we’re both very good at it.”

 

“Fine. I couldn’t stop you if I tried, anyway.” Stockpile rubbed a hand tiredly over his faceplates. “I’m going to recharge; my training starts in the morning. But we’ll discuss this more later. From now on, you two keep us all in the loop. No more surprises like this.”

 

“No more surprised,” Jazz agreed.

 

“We don’t want you to worry,” Blue added. “Not any more than you already do, anyway.”

 

Woodwind accompanied Stockpile when the older mech levered himself out of the chair and made his way to his recharge room. Jazz looked down at the table and Bluenote fidgeted with the keys of his flute.

 

“That wasn’t how I’d planned to tell you,” the black and white mech said softly.

 

Soundwave tilted his head curiously. “How had you planned?”

 

“Well, I had hoped it would be when we recruited you. Then you got that promotion and you weren’t the best candidate anymore. After that, I didn’t know how I was going to tell you.” Jazz laid his stylus on the table before he could chew it more. “I knew I was going to have to soon, though. Blue and I were going on runs that wouldn’t be able to be covered up with our usual refinery duties.”

 

“Does Flashfire know?”

 

“Fire’s one of our contacts,” Bluenote replied. “He’s really in charge of this refinery, but he also helps move intel for the Guard. The jobs here were real, but he also wanted us close so that we could be more useful to him. Quake has lots of runners, but they’re harder to recruit here.”

 

“I understand,” Soundwave told them. “Just be careful. I would be lost without you.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The Decepticons remained quiet for nearly a metacycle after taking over the terrorist groups inhabiting the mines. It seemed that perhaps that would be the end of the rebellion and some kind of peace talks could begin that would move their people forward without violence, and Zeta Prime even made motions to open such a dialogue.

 

And then a member of the Guard was caught attempting to assassinate the leader of the Decepticons. Megatron was enraged, and returned the assassin’s corpse to the Prime filled with high-heat explosives. Word among the Jazz and Bluenote’s contacts was that they were still finding pieces of Zeta imbedded in the walls and that there was some sort of power struggle involved in the succession of the next Prime.

 

The confusion of the power vacuum left the remaining ruling bodies ripe for attack, and attack the Decepticons did. Twenty highly ranked senators and their aides were deactivated before the Guard pulled together enough mechpower to beat them back to the mines.

 

Sentinel Prime emerged just after the Decepticons went back into hiding and addressed the issue aggressively and decisively.

 

He declared war on Megatron and his Decepticons.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU HAVEN'T PUT THOSE TISSUES AWAY.

“The guard is cutting way back on the number of civilian runners,” Jazz told them over their morning energon. “Some of them were getting to be familiar faces in some of the more dangerous postings and they aren’t willing to keep risking us.”

 

“Are you and Blue getting cut?” Woodwind asked.

 

“Not yet, but it’s probably just a matter of time. We’re safer inside the refinery than out there where we’d be moving targets.”

 

“One of us will probably get trimmed in the next decacycle or so,” Bluenote added, dropping into his chair tiredly. “And I kind of hope it’s me. It’s been way too busy lately.”

 

“Will our energon allotments be cut back?” Stockpile asked as he handed out the fuel.

 

“I don’t think so,” Jazz replied. “I’m pretty sure our rations come from the refinery now, not the Guard. I’ll talk to Flashfire about it, though.”

 

“All right.” Symphony nodded. “Both of you, be extra careful out there.”

 

“We won’t give you any extra reasons to worry,” Blue assured his creator.

 

Soundwave listened to the exchange and hoped that would turn out to be true.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

For several metacycles, the war simply went around them. Many of the other remaining refineries were attacked, leaving the burden of providing fuel for the majority of Cybertronians to the Kalis refinery. It was an impossible task, and more and more of Soundwave’s time was spent in the communications office, helping Guideline soothe bruised egos and settle ruffled plating as more and more shipments were delayed or orders were only partly filled. The people were becoming restless as their fuel supply dwindled even further, and the ranks of the Decepticons began to swell with mechs who were homeless and starving.

 

The ranks of the Autobot Guard began to swell with those unsavory types as well, though not at the same pace. They were less willing to simply give away precious fuel to unproven mechs.

 

Soundwave thought it was all rather foolish, especially since Sentinel Prime’s war wasted even more of their already precious resources. The citizens didn’t need a group of rebels pacified; they needed the government to listen to the rebels and work toward mutually beneficial solutions. They didn’t need war, they needed fuel and trade with other worlds to survive.

 

Unfortunately, even the last of Cybertron’s strongest allies and removed ties with them when Sentinel declared war.

 

Jazz and Bluenote watched current events carefully and, with information gathered from their sources inside the Guard, planned an escape from Kalis if the refinery ever came under attack. The Autobot contacts were working to provide safety and shelter to civilians like them, though it might not be better than what they had shared above Quake’s tavern. Such an escape was undesirable, but preferable to the alternatives.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Woodwind was contaminated with a plastic dissolving microbe the day Perihex came under Decepticon control. He had begun helping Fixit in the medical bay after Symphony had passed on, and had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when one of the floor mechs had staggered in. Much of the mech’s optical array had been dissolved by the microbe, leaving him blind and lost. He had staggered into Wind as the silver mech attempted to help him. 

 

Woodwind’s screams had been loud enough to be heard on the processing floor, but they had also been enough to summon the medics on staff almost instantly. 

 

The infected mech deactivated, but Fixit and an apprentice named Glit had managed to neutralize the microbe in Woodwind’s body. Extensive damage had been done to the cables and tubes in his legs and the slender mech was bedridden until the internal components he had lost could be replaced, but he was alive.

 

Soundwave worried, even as he took as much time as possible from his duty shifts to help tend to Wind. The silver mech was incredibly weak and the blue mech hadn’t ever forgotten how frail he had been when the virus had disrupted his repair protocols; seeing him so weak now reminded him of that very frightening time, when he had been so afraid that Woodwind was going to deactivate.

 

“I’ll be all right, Wave,” Wind assured him. “Fixit knew what he was doing and he destroyed all the microbes. Once the replacement tubing comes in, I’ll be back on my feet.”

 

“I don’t like it when you’re not well,” Soundwave confessed. “It… scares me.”

 

“Scares you?” The silver mech leaned up on one elbow to look at him. “Scares you how?”

 

“I’m afraid that I’ll lose you, too.”

 

“Oh, Soundwave.” Woodwind didn’t waste words trying to reassure Soundwave. Instead, he reached up and wrapped an arm around the blue mech’s neck. Tugging him down gently, the silver mech placed a warm kiss on Soundwave’s lips.

 

The older mech’s worries didn’t ease, but he did acknowledge that Wind was alive and still with him by kissing back.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“If we have to run, Wind is going to be a liability,” Jazz said softly.

 

“I will not leave him behind!” Stockpile’s tone was firm, clearly stating he would be unmoved on the subject.

 

“I know that,” the black and white mech replied. “I’m not saying we leave him. But he _will_ slow us down if we have to get out quick. We have to be prepared for that.”

 

“I will carry him,” the gold mech said.

 

“Bad idea,” Bluenote interrupted. “If we’re running, we’ll probably need to defend ourselves. You’re the only one of us who’s actually been trained to use a firearm.”

 

“And what else should we do, then?” Stress and worry were clearly taking their toll on Stockpile, as he slumped back in his chair. The elder mech seemed defeated already.

 

“I will carry him,” Soundwave said. “I am stronger and more capable of carrying heavy loads over a long distance if necessary.”

 

“Wave has a point there.” Jazz looked thoughtful. “I was going to have him carry supplies because of that, but if we need to get Wind out of here in a hurry, he’ll be best suited for it.”

 

Blue nodded. “I can carry supplies. This sounds like the best way to alter the plan, to make sure we all get away.”

 

“And what happens if no one can get to him?” Stockpile asked. “What if we’re all separated?”

 

“Then whoever can get away, does. We’ve got escape plans for this entire plant and those will work just as well to sneak back in and get him later.” Jazz sounded certain.

 

“What if they don’t?” Bluenote asked. Soundwave wasn’t certain if the red mech was simply playing devil’s advocate or if he was truly unsure of the prospect.

 

“Then we find a way. We don’t leave him behind, no matter what.” Jazz nodded firmly and crossed his arms.

 

“Never,” Soundwave agreed.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Woodwind curled into his side and rested his head on Soundwave’s shoulder. “You’re tense. What’s wrong?”

 

“Jazz is making new contingency plans.” The blue mech pulled the silver mech close and held him tightly. “In case they attack before you’re repaired.”

 

“Oh.” Wind laid his hand on Soundwave’s chest plates, just over the older mech’s spark, and rubbed mindless patterns there with his fingers. “I know you’ll never leave me willingly. But if they stop you from coming for me, I want you to run. I want to know that you’ll be safe, even if I’m not with you.”

 

“Wind, I will never leave you behind.”

 

“I know that.” Woodwind pressed a kiss into his chest plates. “I know you wouldn’t ever do it willingly, and that Jazz may have to drag you out kicking and screaming. But I want you to promise me that you will keep yourself safe, even if it means leaving me behind. I can find another way out, but I can’t replace you.”

 

“All right. I promise,” The blue mech lied. No matter what Jazz’s plans called for or what Woodwind asked, Soundwave knew he could never and would never leave the silver mech behind.

 

“Good.” Wind nuzzled against the larger mech’s side. Then he began humming a lullaby, doing his best to soothe them both into recharge.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Iacon has cut us off,” Flashfire said to the group assembled in front of him on the operations floor.

 

Soundwave frowned at the monitor where he was watching the announcement, as unhappy with the news as the workers assembled on the floor. The rulers in Iacon were fools if they thought the Decepticons would be placated by being _given_ an energon refinery like this.

 

When the crowd had quieted, Flashfire continued. “Iacon has cut us off, hoping that the Decepticons will simply ignore us if we are unaligned. They have abandoned us to our fates and we will be alone if they’re wrong.”

 

More grumbling and shouts followed the words. Fire allowed the workers their anger for several kliks before speaking agin.

 

“I know that many of you here came here with your families looking for security and regular energon rations. I know that this is the only legitimate job many of you have been able to hold down since Zeta became Prime. I know that you have shelter here, and friends and work that many of you love. 

 

“I cannot promise that any of these things will remain now. The Decepticons will see us as a ripe soure of fuel for their own troops and they will come. Our security forces are well trained, but they will be no match for megatron’s army.”

 

“So what do we do?” One bold mech shouted.

 

“Any mehc who wishes to leave may do so. I will provide enough energon to fuel them for five cycles and give them my blessing. No one is going to be forced to remain at the refinery when it is clear that our safety is no longer a priority with the Prime or the Senate. Any mech who wishes to stay may do so and I will be grateful for the help. This is a big refineray and I won’t be able to run it alone.”

 

No one laughed at the attempted joke. Soundwave leaned back in his chair and tried to process the news. If they were cut off, then the Autobot Gard would not come to their assistance if needed and nothing would be shipped in from any of the Autobot aligned cities. There would be no more parts, for Woodwind or for him. 

 

“I would appreciate it if anyone who’s leaving would stop by my office and inform me personally. I know there will be many of you and I want to say goodbye personally.” Flashfire finished sadly.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“I’m staying,” Stockpile told them softly. “If I’m here, I feel like I’m at least doing something, contributing something. I’m… I can’t run anymore.”

 

“Stockpile, no!” Woodwind’s face fell and he reached out for his creator from his place on Soundwave’s lap. “You can’t stay. We need you.”

 

“You have Soundwave to take care of you and Jazz and Blue to find you fuel and parts. You don’t need me.” the gold mech shook his head tiredly. “I’m too old for this kind of life anymore. I can’t run anymore.”

 

Stockpile shifted, and the younger mechs were all painfully aware of how his joints creaked in the quiet room. Woodwind looked stricken, and buried his face in Soundwave’s neck.

 

“You know we never minded scrounging for you, too,” Jazz said. “And we never will, either. But… I think I get it.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Bluenote said darkly.

 

“This is where Symphony is interred,” the black and white said. “And Stockpile doesn’t want to leave him again, ever.”

 

The gold mech simply nodded. None of the others could find anything else to say.

 

Soundwave held Woodwind close and gave him what comfort he could. It broke his spark to leave another parent behind, but like Jazz, he understood.


End file.
